


Dreams Unwind

by unn_known



Series: Dreams Unwind [1]
Category: One Direction
Genre: Casual drinking, F/M, Public Sex, Runaway Cat, casual pot smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2020-12-16 06:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 38,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21032054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unn_known/pseuds/unn_known
Summary: Joey Carter has a pretty nice life - an awesome dad, a fantastic uncle, a grumpy old cat that means the world to her. Sure, it could honestly be better, but as it is, it’s a good life. So when her cat decides to run away, Joey’s not sure how she can deal with it. In comes Harry, her very own knight in shining armour - or, well, her tattooed saviour in outfits that shouldn’t work but do. It isn’t long before Joey starts falling for Harry, because of course she does. How could she not, with him being so sweet and kind and hilarious? Then the other shoe drops, and she’s left to figure out where to go and whether she should keep chasing a future with Harry.





	1. [o n e]

“Dad? Can you feed Tubs for me?”

“Why can’t you do it?” Dennis calls back, and I roll my eyes as I shove my feet into a pair of boots.

“Because I’ve gotta get to class.”

“Ask your uncle.”

“Oh, my god, you’re making this far more difficult than it should be. Uncle Henry, feed Tubs! Love you, guys!”

I slam the door shut on their responses, rushing down the sidewalk to the cars. I barely check to make sure no one is at risk of being run over before pulling out of the parking spot. My phone beeps from where I tossed it into the cup holder, and I ignore it in favour of turning on the radio. The strains of piano keys fills the vehicle. My brows furrow when I doesn’t recognise the song immediately. It doesn’t matter - I find myself bobbing my head along to the beat anyway, and I even try to sing with the smooth-rough voice even though I know literally none of the lyrics. I’m just glad that I’m alone so no one can witness my spectacular screw-ups.

As is my luck, traffic slows to a crawl when I am only twenty minutes away from campus. I curse under my breath as I slam on the brakes, wishing a very unfortunate day on the person who’s just cut me off. The lanes bottleneck as everyone tries to merge and get around the wreck in the two far right lanes; lights flash in the rear-view, and I glance in the mirror to see the driver behind me throwing his hands up exasperatedly. I mimic his actions, flip him off, then focus on the road. His stupid little Honda zooms past as soon as the standstill bumper-to-bumper jam clears up. I get a quick glimpse of him yelling something at her before he’s too far ahead. Rolling my eyes, I signal to switch lanes and try to locate my exit.

Someone honks at me, and I manage a wave of apology at them even as I pull in between the lines. I grab my bag from the passenger seat, shoves my phone into the side pocket, and slide out of the driver’s seat. I hooks my keys to the belt loop of my skinny jeans and remembers belatedly to press the lock button before I get out of range. The car chirps as the alarm sets; I rush past the groups of students until I reach the building I need. I mutter out a litany of _move move move move_ as I weave through the hall and stumbles to a halt outside the door.

Thankfully, the professor hasn’t taken her place at the podium yet, so I slip into the room and make my way to the closest empty seat. The kid next to me gives me a nervous smile then immediately turns his gaze back to his laptop. I raise a brow when I see he’s watching _Pokémon_, but I can’t really find it in me to actually be judgemental - not when I still watch the occasional episode of _Sailor Moon_. I open my own laptop and log in quickly, clicking the icon for Word. I’ve just finished typing the date at the top of the document when Professor Dalton clears her throat from the front of the room. I force my attention to stay on the woman and not the flashes of colour to my right.

I wait patiently until the mad rush for the door is finished before gathering up my stuff and standing. My steps out of the building are much more sedate now that I have over an hour before my next class. I heft my bag further onto her shoulder and dig out my phone, bringing up the text message thread with my uncle Henry.

Unc  
  
**Unc:** Why did I have to feed your fat cat?  
**Unc:** I don't even like the bastard  
  
**Joey:** Because you love me  
**Joey:** Thanks for feeding Tubs for me. I really do appreciate it.  
**Joey:** Even if you're an asshole who hates my cat.  
  
**Unc:** Anyone with half a brain is gonna hate that vicious annoying lump  
  


I roll my eyes at my uncle’s theatrics and lock my phone before coming to a stop at the crosswalk. Someone bumps into me, tosses a _sorry_ my way. I shrug in response, stepping forward once the signal changes. My face screws up at the wall of noise as soon as I step through the door of Starbucks, and I wish I’d thought to grab my earbuds on the way out of the house. But since I didn’t, I’m forced to deal with the loud chattering of fellow college-goers and the fact they can’t have conversations at a lower volume. I stand in line, staring longingly at the espresso machine, impatient to get the coffee I desperately want. My brain decides, in the face of a caffeine-less existence, that now is a good time to replay the song I heard in the car on the way to class, and I hum idly to the notes I can remember.

Coffee in hand after another twenty painful minutes, I push through the crowd to the door. I’m halfway across campus to my Development of Sociological Theory class when my phone beeps. I pull it out to see that my dad’s sent a text telling me to pick up some pizza on my way home. _Why can’t you get it yourself?_ I want to say but don’t, only sending back a thumbs-up emoji. I don’t know if it’s a good or pathetic thing that I already knows exactly what toppings to get on the pies and which place my dad and uncle prefer. I set a reminder on my phone, sidestep a guy running full-steam on the sidewalk, and duck under the branch that hangs far too low but maintenance refuses to remove - all without looking up. Routine is nice, I think, even if it does fill me with deja vu constantly.

Professor Callen is just as strict and unrelenting as usual. If anyone else was teaching the class, I am absolutely sure I would be able to pay better attention. Hell, I might even find it more interesting, but as it is, it feels like a massive waste of a couple of hours of my day. I manage to catch the more important bits of information, sparing through that is. My eyes land on a girl about my age diligently typing away on her laptop in the third row, and I wonders if she’ll email me a copy of the notes.

“I’m home!” I yells as I step into the entry hall.

The sound of cheering comes from the living room, and I roll my eyes at yet another sports game on the television. I carry the pizzas to the kitchen, grabs a paper plate from the holder. After getting a slice of cheese pizza and another with pepperoni and bacon, I make my way down the hall to my bedroom, shouting “Soup’s on!” as I pass back through the living room to the hallway. Tubs jumps onto the bed as soon as I sit down, purring and chirping as he examines my plate; I nudge him back gently.

“Nope. This is mine, ya fat brat. You know Doctor Simmons wants you on a diet.”

“Mrewr?”

“Okay, fine, here.” I rip off a small chunk of cheese and toss it toward the cat. “That’s all you’re getting. Now leave me alone.”

Tubs pounces on the cheese, licks happily at it, and I roll my eyes and wish I was ever as easily pacified as he is. Unfortunately, I was born a human, not an overweight elderly cat, so I have more worries to weigh me down. Namely, homework. I take a huge bite of one of the pizza slices and drag my bag towards me. Tubs decides studying isn’t important and drapes across the book, and I poke his nose, giggling when his tongue darts out to scrape against my fingertip. Muttering affectionately at him, I push him away, open my book, and start reading the lessons I completely ignored in class.

It isn’t ten minutes later that I realise it’s entirely too silent in the room and everything I’ve read basically escaped my brain instantly. I open the Pandora app on my phone, scroll through the various stations I have created, and decide on Stevie Nicks. Something about the woman’s voice just makes me happy - Stevie has always been one of my favourite female musicians, and I’m hopeful that listening to her music will help me retain the information I need to know in order to graduate. Thankfully, Stevie’s a miracle worker: I close the book, successful enough, after another half-hour, and the song cuts off when I exit out of Pandora, _And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again_ echoing slightly in the sudden silence of the bedroom.

My dad looks up from whichever teams are playing when I enter the living room, Tubs padding along at my feet. “How’d school go today?”

“The usual. Loud assholes in the coffeeshop, Callen refusing to slow down and actually explain things properly, traffic was a nightmare. As I said, completely the usual.”

“Well, I’m proud of you, if I haven’t told you that lately.”

I roll my eyes and reach for his beer, take a swig. “Thanks, Dad. Who’s playing?”

“As if you care,” he snorts with a laugh. “Class tomorrow?”

“Uh, I have one at nine, but I have to skip the one o’clock because Tubs McFatty here has an appointment.”

“I still can’t believe you adopted a cat named Tubs McFatty.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t try to make me change it.”

“Hey, you were an adult, I couldn’t make you do shit.”

“Damn skippy. We got any ice cream?”

“Yeah, Henry picked some up on his way home. Get some Rocky Road, will ya?” he calls as I head to the kitchen.

“Do I look like the pizza and ice cream faerie to you?” I retort even while I grab out a second bowl and the desired tubs of frozen goodness.

The rest of the evening goes quickly; before long, I’m “cheering” along with my father as yet another game plays, my voice lacking any emotion whatsoever though his is exuberant. Henry doesn’t come back out from his bedroom, but I can’t blame him. He’s never been one for sports, either, preferring to read or muck around on his guitar. I’m only out here watching the teams run around on the field because being around my dad is always the best part of my days.

It’s been the three of us since I was thirteen, and I have never wanted it any other way. Henry allowed a man struggling with an impending divorce and his young teen-aged daughter to move in without hesitation, and we’ve become a rather well-adjusted family. I had tried to move into a house on campus when I first got accepted into college, but I had quickly found that my housemates weren’t nearly as easygoing as my father and uncle. Far too many nights, I went to bed wondering which of the other four would attempt to murder me in my sleep. Or drug me so I wouldn’t wake up as they dragged my mattress to the curb. I’ve seen that happen, and I would be damned if it happened to me. So I’d made it through the first semester just fine then immediately packed up my stuff and came back home as soon as break started. The jokes at my expense were much easier to handle than the stress of fearing for my life and watching my grades slip because I couldn’t study due to said fearing for my life.

Then I’d moved out again once I got married at twenty. It was mostly a whim, a passing desire come to life, but I hadn’t regretted it. I still don’t. Marrying Wil, creating a life together with him… I’ve been left with memories I’ll always cherish. We’d gotten an amazing, perfect nineteen months together. We actually adopted Tubs as a belated marriage gift to ourselves five months after the wedding; there had been no discussion before we agreed that an older cat viewed as un-adoptable was the better choice. Kittens have always been a hot commodity, but a senior feline rarely got the same chances, especially when they were overweight and cranky like Tubs had been. I ended up selling the house and moving back in with my dad and uncle three months after - _after_.

Dennis takes the bowls to the kitchen, rinses them out in the sink, and I gather up the empty beer bottles on the table and dump them into the recycling bin. I lean against my father’s chest when he hugs me tightly. I feel like a child again, safe and secure in the embrace. He smells just the same as he always has, and it’s comforting. He drops a kiss to my hair and tells me to go to bed. I sigh, ordering him to do the same.

“I’m not the one who has to be seventeen stories up in the air.”

“No, but you have to deal with an angry cat who hates confinement, the car, _and_ the vet.”

“Touche, old man. Well-played. Night, Dad.”

“Night, starlight.”


	2. [t w o]

“C’mon, Tubs, I know you’re not happy, but stop biting at me and let me stuff you in your carrier.”

Tubs growls at me, swipes at my face with extended claws, and I just barely manage to yank my head back in time. Frustration grows deep in me the more I fight with the cat, and I stifle the stream of curse words when he twists just right and the cloth folds under his weight. Eventually, with a little more force than I usually use, I get him in and the flap zipped up. His ears flatten against his skull, and he hisses as I clip the zips together.

“Sorry, dude, but you’re a dick.”

I make sure the door is locked behind me before heading to my car. Buckling the carrier into the front passenger seat, I scratch my nails lightly on the mesh top, close the door as gently as I can, and round the vehicle to slide into the driver’s seat. Tubs is very vocal in his displeasure at being confined and in a car, and I turn the radio up so I don’t have to hear him any more. I know he’s fine. He’s just being bratty.

A small smile twists at my lips when the song from yesterday starts playing. I relax back in my seat and lets the scratchy, silky voice fill my ears. Tubs falls silent eventually but not until I’m putting the car in park. I roll my eyes when the cacophony starts up again once the engine is off. I call him a dick again and grab my phone, the carrier, and my purse.

The appointment goes about as well as I could have expected: Doctor Simmons tuts over the cat’s weight, his lips thin and brows furrowed, even though Tubs has been forced to stick to the diet he was put on - minus the occasional treat. The poor vet tech gets a nice set of sharp claws to her cheek when she leans down too far to keep Tubs from moving as Doctor Simmons takes his temperature. I somehow manage to catch my cat before he can successfully leap off the examination table, receiving a growling hiss in return. Finally, he receives his vaccinations, I shove him back into his carrier, and we head back to the lobby so I can pay for the visit.

I’m not even sure how it happens: One second, I’m carrying a yowling, angry cat to the car, and the next, said yowling, angry cat is running off through the parking lot, carrier hanging limply from my shoulder. I freeze, staring after the blur of white and grey before it disappears into the bushes surrounding the building, then my brain snaps into action. I drop the useless carrier and take off in the direction that Tubs has gone. Unfortunately, there’s no sight of the fat cat when I duck down to search the hedges. My heart races painfully against my ribs, and my throat tightens. Nausea grabs hold, accompanied by an inhuman dose of panic and fear, and my hands tremble as I shove thin branches aside to look more closely.

“Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, _no_, this isn’t good. Tubs! C’mere, buddy. Come on, fat cat, I can’t handle this today. Please.” I click my tongue over and over and over, but unlike every other time, he doesn’t come running to my side. “Fuck. Tubs McFatty, come on, come here.”

“Uh? Is everything okay?”

I whirl around at the voice, and the guy’s eyes widen. I know how awful I must look right now, between the tears and puffy eyes and snotty nose, but I can’t care about that - all I care about is finding my cat. “I… my cat. He’s, he’s gone. He ran off. I can’t lose my cat.”

“Okay. What does he look like?”

“What?”

“I’ll help you look. What does he look like? Do you have a picture of him?”

“I, yeah, um…”

“All right, why don’t we sit right here, take some calming breaths -”

“I _can’t_ calm down! I’ve lost my cat, and he’s - he’s the most important thing in my life, I need to find him!”

The guy raises his hands in the air and slowly approaches. “I get that, I promise. But panicking is only going to make things worse. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” I let out a laugh that sounds less derisive and more manic. “Dude, I don’t even _know_ you. Okay? I don’t know you, I don’t owe you anything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to searching for my cat.”

I turn my back to him and push myself further into the bushes. It’s no use - wherever Tubs has run off to, it isn’t here. A sob tears from my throat, and I slam my hand against the ground, yelping when a piece of mulch pricks my palm. Cursing, I flop down onto the curb and bury my face in my knees. A hand, warm and gentle, rests on my shoulders, squeezes comfortingly.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to help, but I guess it came off wrong. I didn’t mean to upset you more.” He sighs, holds out a tissue. “How about you text me a photo of your cat, and if I see him, I give you a ring? I can even help put up some missing posters, get the word out more?”

I scrub a hand over my cheeks, though it doesn’t do a lick of good; I’m still crying too hard at the thought of having lost Tubs. The guy wiggles the tissue closer to my face, and I reluctantly giggle at the exaggerated pouting expression on his face. Taking it from him, I dab at my eyes. We sit in silence, cars speeding past the only sound around. Eventually, I drag in an unsteady breath.

“Sorry about the whole ‘being a bitch’ thing.”

“No, don’t worry about it. You’re scared, stressed… It’s understandable.”

“I would appreciate your help, though. Thank you.”

His arm slides across my shoulders, and I let myself get tugged into his side. My heart is still pounding in my chest, and I’m barely managing to prevent myself from throwing up. But I have to admit it’s nice to not be alone right now. Not when the one thing that matters most in my life has disappeared and I’m left freaking out. After a few minutes, I push away, wiping my face with a hand. A stinging sensation zips through my palm, and I glare down at the shred of wood embedded in my flesh.

“Fuck.”

“Let me see.” His hand is gentle as he pulls mine toward him, and I shiver slightly at the touch. “Okay, do you trust me?”

“Again with the trusting,” I quip, laughing despite myself.

“Well, it’s either trust me, or have your hand fall off because your stubbornness caused the splinter to get infected.”

“Oh, those are my only choices? Those are both terrible.”

His green eyes narrow. “You’re being very mean right now. I don’t know why I’m trying to help.”

“Because you’re obviously a sweetheart. Fine. If you think you can fix my hand, have at it. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Your name. So I know who to blame and subsequently haunt if I die.”

“Harry,” he responds on a chuckle, “my name is Harry.”

I raise my brows when he leans over my hand, his nose nearly pressing to my palm, but I don’t say anything. He murmurs an apology at the hiss of pain I let out as his nails search for a good grip on the mulch piece, and I shrug though he can’t see it. The stinging grows in intensity, becomes actual pain, but then the splinter slides out of my skin. I flex my fingers and bite my lip as the skin stretches around the tiny wound. Nodding to myself, I glance over at Harry.

“Thanks.”

“This means you’re not going to haunt me, right?”

“It absolutely does not. I could still die from this, y’know.” I turn my attention to the bushes behind us, chest tightening with loss when there’s still no mass of fur hiding in there. “Fuck.”

“Come on. Let’s get a coffee or something, then we can search for - what’s your cat’s name?”

“Tubs McFatty,” I mumble, repeat it louder when he tilts his head closer to mine.

Harry stares at me, face scrunched up in incredulity, before he bursts into laughter. I huff and shove myself to my feet. I’m halfway across the parking lot when he catches up; his grip on my arm, though easy enough to pull away from, stops me short, and I sigh, facing him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. I wasn’t expecting something like that.”

“What, something so ridiculous? Yeah, I get it. I got him when he was already eight, so changing his name wouldn’t have been easy. He answers to Tubs well enough, so I kept it. I mean, he also answers to ‘Hey, you dick’, but I think that’s because he expects treats every time I talk to him.”

Harry falls into step beside me, and we walk in silence to my car. The carrier still lies in a pile of cranberry-coloured polyester near the sidewalk. I deliberate leaving it where it is, but Doctor Simmons and his staff don’t deserve the littering, so I pick it up and unlock the car. I toss the carrier into the backseat, slamming the door shut, and rounds the front to stand by the driver’s side door.

“You said something about coffee?”

Harry nods, gestures toward the passenger seat. “Can I get in?”

“No, I’m gonna make you walk after you so gallantly rescued my hand from a splinter.”

He rolls his eyes but opens the door, sliding into the seat, and I let out a sigh and stare at the hedges. Wherever Tubs is, he’s probably long gone by now. So Harry’s suggestion of missing posters is most likely my best bet. I still scan the side of the road as I drive to the closest Starbucks, hoping in spite of the reality of the situation that he will be found frolicking happily in the grass in front of some building. It hurts, though it really shouldn’t, when there isn’t a sighting of him by the time I pull into a parking space. Harry waits until I’ve turned off the engine before unbuckling his belt. We come to a stop by the trunk of the car, and he presses his fingertips against the back of my arm.

“How about I go get our drinks while you find a place to sit? What do you want to drink?”

Once he has my order, he heads off toward the door with a smile, and I examine the tables out front. The umbrellas are up, casting shadows in the bright sunlight, and I make my way toward the one that seems to be putting off more shade than the rest. I pull out my phone, tapping the button to compose a new message to my dad.

Dad  
  
**Joey:** Will need ice cream. Tell Uncle Henry I'm sorry, but his mint chocolate chip is gonna have to be sacrificed to the greater good...  
  
**Dad:** Everything ok??  
  
**Joey:** I'll explain when I get home. Love you.  
  
**Dad:** Love you to starlight  


I grimace but don’t say anything about his grammar. Instead, I lock my phone just as Harry approaches the table, two drinks in hand. He passes one over to me, and I take a sip while he sits with his back to the window. I scrub a hand over my face, wincing at the tightness in my cheeks from the dried tears. As he stares out at the traffic and people passing by, I rake my gaze over him.

The outfit he’s wearing is certainly… something else, something I never would have imagined working as well as it does. His dark hair curls at the edges, but the majority of it is swept up and to the side; the amount of volume in his hair is, quite frankly, astonishingly and worthy of my jealousy. I question whether he’s wearing mascara because there is literally no way anyone has lashes that dark and long naturally, and the green of his eyes is much more pronounced now that I’m no longer looking at him through fear-filled tears. He looks oddly familiar, though I can’t place where I might have seen him before. Harry catches me staring and gives me a soft smile while I hurriedly take a drink to cover my embarrassment.

“So about that picture of your cat.”

A garbled sound escapes my throat, and I quickly swallow down the mouthful of coffee. He waits patiently as I put in my PIN and scroll through the photo gallery until I find the photo I took of Tubs not even two days ago. My breath comes out in a shaky rattle, and I hand him the device. His _aww_ is soft but still audible; I reach over, blindly swiping across the screen so that the next image will load. He snorts, bites his lip, and belatedly, I remember which photograph it is - Tubs had gotten upset with the lack of attention from me and crawled across my chest until he was lying on the lower half of my face, staring down at me with an almost bored expression on his feline face. Too caught up in my panicked thoughts about what I’m going to do if I don’t find my cat, I see but don’t register the way Harry’s fingers tap at the screen of my phone. He hands it back after a moment.

“How much do I owe you?” I ask quietly, the silence between us having grown to an uncomfortable level.

“For what?”

“The coffee, duh.”

“Nothin’ doing. It’s on me.”

“Harry -”

“You’ve had a bad day. This is the least I can do to make up for it.” He cocks his head, giving ne an impish grin. “Now the surgery I performed on your hand, though… that’s a different story.”

His face loses some of the amusement when someone shouts from behind me, and I frown at him. He sighs and glances at his watch. I keep her gaze on him even as the voices get louder, closer. He squirms in his chair, keeps his face toward the ground.

“Wanna get out of here?”

He shoots me an appreciative smile, and with that, we both start speed-walking toward my car, sliding in and buckling up. He checks that no one is following as I drive away from the coffeeshop. There is no set destination in mind, just _away_. Something tells me I should feel awkward, reluctant to have this perfect stranger in my car, but I ignore that voice in my head. Harry helped a perfect stranger today, so it’s only right that I do the same for him. I eventually pull into a turnout alongside the highway, putting the car in park. The buildings of downtown jut up from the ground, small with distance yet still daunting despite it. Harry grabs his coffee from the cup holder.

“Thank you.”

I drag my gaze away from the Hollywood Bowl. “What?”

“Thank you.”

“For getting you away from a situation you looked insanely uncomfortable to be in?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I just -”

“You don’t have to explain.”

Unc  
  
**Unc:** Mint chocolate chip is sitting here melting. If I had known this was the sacrifice, I would have said no.  


“Ah, shit,” I mutter.

“What is it?”

“I need to get home. Sorry.”

He nods slowly, and I stare out at the scenery in front of us before reversing out the spot. It isn’t too much longer, or so it seems, that I arrive back at Doctor Simmons’s office. Harry hesitates but turns to face me. I force a smile in response.

“I really hope you find Tubs McFatty.”

His voice cracks with stifled laughter, and I roll my eyes, shove half-heartedly at his shoulder. “Get out of my car, jerk.”

The quiet once he does so is deafening. I know I should head back to my house, but I decide to sit there and watch over him - just to protect him, of course. If he gets mugged, at least I’m right there to intervene. Purely protection. And maybe a little bit the fact that looking at him kicks up a fluttering beneath my breastbone, one that I’ve not felt in so long. Harry waves a goodbye to her as a car pulls into the lot, and I wiggle my fingers in response, bite my lip while he slides into the passenger seat of the vehicle. After they’ve left, I put my car in drive and point the wheels toward home.


	3. [t h r e e]

I stare at the cat tower in the corner of the bedroom, the levels all empty; the catnip ball hangs on its string, unmoving, and the hole leading to the bed section remains completely free of a twitching tail. My heart hurts at the lack of cat, and I drag my gaze away and to the screen of my phone as it dings in my hand. I don’t recognise the number that pops up at the top, but I tap on the notification anyway, watch as Tubs’s face disappears to be replaced by a message thread. My brow furrows when I see two photos of Tubs already in the thread, ostensibly sent by myself, but I don’t remember doing so. I shake my head and read the text.

  
**Unknown Number:** Hey, how are you feeling? I hope you don’t mind that I sent pictures of your cat to myself.  
  
**Joey:** Harry???  
  
**Harry:** The one and only!  


  
I huff out a laugh, typing out _Well, thanks for letting me know you stole my number_

  
**Joey:** I’m okay. Still worried and freaked that Tubs ran off but trying to keep my wits about me so I can get him back.  
  
**Harry:** Are you going to go look for him tomorrow?  
  
**Joey:** Yeah, I have a couple of hours between classes. Why?  


Harry’s response takes a moment, and the typing bubble appears and disappears a couple of times before his text comes in: _Just wondering. Was going to go out and search, too. We can stop by a copy shop and make missing posters beforehand._

I drop the phone to the bed, covering my face with my hands. Why the Hell is he being so nice to someone who he doesn’t even know? If I were in his shoes, I probably wouldn’t be spending so much time trying to help the person - I suppose this means I’m not as great of a human as Harry is turning out to be. Once I’ve gotten myself under control again, I pick up the device.

  
**Joey:** I can’t ask you to do that.You’ve done plenty already.  
  
**Harry:** I haven’t done much, what are you talking about?  
  
**Joey:** Well, let’s see…  
**Joey:**You let me cry on you  
**Joey:** You performed lifesaving surgery on my hand  
**Joey:** You bought me coffee  
**Joey:** And now this?? That’s so much to do for a stranger, Harry.  
  
**Harry:** You saved me at Starbucks, so we’re even.  


I snort, giggle to myself, even as I type back a response. The sound of the front door closing catches my attention, and I stand, cross the room to peek out. Henry passes by the end of the hallway, his eyes firmly on the phone in his hand. His lips are pulled down into a scowl, and even from this far away, I can see the tension in his shoulders. I frown but duck back into my room, closing the door. If there’s something he needs to get off his chest, then he can bring it up. Harry’s texted me back by the time I sit on my bed again. I stifle a laugh at his usage of the red-faced angry emoji, even though I’d put two thinking emojis in mine. I send back an agreement to let him help if he really wants to, but he should definitely stop making fun of Tubs’s name because it’s mean.

“Jo Beth, you okay in there?”

I clap a hand over my mouth, but it does nothing to stop the laughter exploding from me. I’m not sure how I managed to go so long without actually introducing myself to Harry, especially after I demanded his name shortly after we met, but here we are. I manage to respond to his texts as my dad appears in the doorway.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m okay, Dad, promise.”

“You sure? Because it looks like you fell off your bed.”

I push myself to my feet, sit on the edge of the mattress. “I did. But I’m fine.”

He rolls his eyes and walks away, but I can still see the small smile on his face as he turns. Harry hasn’t responded by the time I unlock my phone again, and I frown, setting the device aside. The sight of the cat tower in the corner reminds me, yet again, that my cat is missing. The amusement I’ve felt for the last fifteen minutes disappears in a rush, replaced instantly by guilt - how could I have forgotten, even for a moment, about Tubs’s disappearance?

Henry glances up from the book in his hand when I push open his bedroom door. He seems more relaxed now, and my nose scrunches up at the odour in the room. Weed does not mix well with Febreze, really. I cough pointedly, wave a hand in front of my face. He clears his throat and gives me a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. What’s up, kiddo?”

“Can I, uh, can I borrow your printer?”

“Everything okay?”

“No. No, it is not.” I plop down by his feet, reach for the joint in his hand. He passes it over easily. “Tubs got loose when I took him to the vet today. I dunno how it happened, I guess the carrier broke or something? I don’t know. All I know is he’s gone. So I was wanting to use your printer and, well, your laptop, too, to make a missing poster.”

“You’re gonna need more than one, Jo.”

I sigh and roll my eyes. “I know. But I’m gonna take that _one_ to a copy shop and make copies. Use up their ink, ya know?”

Henry laughs quietly, hands me the joint as he waves toward the desk in the corner. I drag in a deep, slow breath and cough a couple times at the burn in my lungs then stub out the joint before crossing the room. After connecting my phone to his laptop, I copy the best picture of Tubs that I can find over to the computer and bring up a Word document. All I can hear in the room is the air conditioning system running, Henry’s breathing, and the swishing of the pages in his book when he turns them.

“Thanks, Unc, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Jo Beth. Hopefully you can find that asshole cat of yours.”

I smile and slip out of the room, clutching the paper in my hand. Henry may insult Tubs every chance he gets, but it’s a badly-kept secret in our house that he also spoils the cat; far too many nights, I’ve woken up to Tubs not in my room only to find him curled up into a tight ball on my uncle’s chest. I grab the throw blanket off the armchair in the corner of my room, drape it over the cat tower. If I can’t see it, the sight of it being empty won’t haunt me so much. I sigh and check the time on my phone. It’s nearly ten in the evening, so I head toward the kitchen for a pre-bed snack. My dad shakes his head at the bag of chocolate-covered pretzels in my hand; I stick my tongue out at him, plopping down onto the other end of the couch.

“Where’s your cat? He’s usually up your ass.”

“He, uh… he ran away.”

“You’re kidding. Right?”

I shake my head, untwist the band around the top of the bag, and hand him a pretzel. “Nope. The carrier broke, and next thing I know, he’s darting away, and I can’t find him.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier? We could have gone looking for him!”

“I, uh… Well, I met someone who’s gonna help me look tomorrow.”

“Jo -”

“Dad, it’s okay. I promise. I mean, I’m terrified that I’ve lost him for good, but…”

“You were laughing pretty hard earlier.”

“Yeah, that was my friend. I - I hadn’t realised I never told him my name, so it was kinda hilarious to me.”

I settle into the sofa further and focus on the movie that’s on - _Next of Kin_. Yummy, Patrick Swayze. My dad stares at me. I glance in his direction from the corner of my eye.

“What.”

“Him?”

Groaning, I throw a pretzel at him. “Stop it, Dad.”

“No, no, I wanna know more about this guy.”

“There’s nothing to know.” I nibble at the chocolate coating of my pretzel then blow out a breath. “Seriously. He found me panicking about Tubs and offered to help. So I sent him a text with pictures of Tubs so if he found him, he could let me know.”

“Sounds like a real white knight,” Dennis responds with a snort; I roll my eyes.

“He was being helpful, that’s all. I’m going to bed. Night, Dad.”

“Night, starlight.”

The bag crinkles in my hand as I push myself to my feet. My dad watches me go, but he’s already back to watching Briar and Truman fighting in the bar by the time I reach the hallway. I close my bedroom door behind me, shutting out the sounds of the TV, and cross the room to drop gracelessly onto my bed. There are no new notifications when I unlock my phone; something twinges in my chest, and I momentarily wonder why it bothers me so much that Harry hasn’t texted me again. Before I can question myself, I bring up the Safari app and type out “_harry england_” then “_harry england green eyes_” when nothing of use shows up, chew at my fingernail while the results load.

The third image looks familiar enough, and I squint, debating whether it’s a younger version of Harry or if I’m higher than I thought. I switch to a new tab and Google _One Direction_, and skim through the images until I see one that is absolutely, undeniably, undoubtedly the Harry I know.

“Oh, holy shit.”

No wonder he looked familiar when I first met him. I’d heard of the boyband before, even listened to them a few times during study sessions, but I never had paid attention to the names of the boys who made up the group. A voice in my brain whispers a question, will this knowledge change anything, will I treat Harry any differently? I shake my head - as far as I’m concerned, Harry is nothing more than the guy who’s helping me find my lost cat - then snort in amusement. I must be high if I’m answering myself. Putting my phone on the nightstand, I lean back against my pillows and concentrate on eating my snack. The combination of salty pretzels and sweet chocolate is much more important than the fact that my new friend just so happens to be Harry fucking Styles, internationally-renowned boyband singer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you wanna read the full text conversation, it can be found [here](https://d.wattpad.com/story_parts/795893036/images/15ceda2c689ba86b916995037536.jpg)


	4. [f o u r]

I cross my arms over my chest once I reach the end of the path, watching in amusement as the other students stumble to a stop, their voices buzzing together. Someone hisses _It’s Harry Styles, holy shit, it’s Harry!_, and I bite back a giggle. He’s smiling widely, posing with the people courageous enough to ask for pictures, signing things that are shoved in his direction. I step off to the side when a kid from my afternoon class shoves past me; my movement seems to catch Harry’s attention. His gaze darts my way, just for a split second, and his grin grows in size. Making sure no one is paying attention to me, I raise my phone, wiggle it. He nods almost imperceptibly, and I walk away, typing out a text to him that I’d be at my car.

He and I have been texting off and on all morning, mostly of his doing; his first message had been confirmation that we were still planning to meet up and look for Tubs together, and any text after the initial thumbs-up emoji I sent was simply in response to the boredom-induced jokes he kept sending. My desk-mate hadn’t been pleased with my distraction, or the incessant vibrating of my phone in my pocket, but even her annoyance couldn’t take away the inkling of happiness that lingered under the worry.

I climb out of the car as Harry approaches fifty minutes later. Luckily, there isn’t anyone following after him, everyone having dispersed for class now that his attention is no longer on them. He holds out his arms, and I let him wrap me up in a tight hug. It’s comforting, nice. My heart skips a beat as the scent of his cologne surrounds me, nearly as warm as the embrace. Eventually, I breathe in deeply and then step back. If anyone were to see us… I don’t care about what people might say to me, but I certainly don’t want to make things difficult on him.

“How was class?” he asks as he rounds the car, sliding into the passenger seat.

“It was class.” I watch his long fingers buckle the seatbelt then shake off the thoughts. “How was your morning?”

“It was productive. Got some things done.”

“That’s good. Productive is always a good thing.”

“It would’ve been better if I’d had some decent company. Hell, I would have been glad to settle for yours.”

“Oh, wow, _ouch_!” I laugh as he gives me a cheeky grin.

“It’s payback for the mean things you said to me yesterday.”

I shake my head and reverse out of the parking space. Silence fills the car as I drive, but it’s comfortable, though tinged with the remnants of anxiety and guilt. As important as Tubs is to me, I keep managing to forget about his disappearance, and even though it’s never for long, it still makes me feel like an awful human being for it ever happening. My stomach churns discomfortingly, my throat tightens. Harry’s hand is warm, gentle, when it wraps around my wrist, and I avoid the way his eyes soften in concern. He tugs on my arm lightly; my hand falls from the steering wheel on instinct, and a shuddering breath escapes as his fingers lace with mine.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

I force myself to nod and focus on finding a place to park. Harry doesn’t let go of my hand, nor does he make a move to get out of the car, even after the engine is off. I scrub at my eyes with my free hand then turn to face him. His lips twist into a sympathetic smile, and his grip tightens just a bit.

“I keep forgetting,” I admit on a whisper, and the dam breaks.

The centre console digs into my belly as he pulls me toward him, his arms coming up to wrap around me securely. I ignore the pain and let him hold me through my tears. He doesn’t say anything, none of the trite drivel I’m used to people saying when they try to comfort another. The silent strength he offers is much more comforting than the cliches anyway.

“Joey, listen to me,” he murmurs when we separate, “it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with forgetting something. This is a new situation for you, right? So of course your brain would automatically assume your cat is safe at home. And I haven’t made it easier to keep your mind on it, have I?”

I let out a watery laugh. “No, you haven’t. You keep distracting me.”

“Yes, my evil plan has worked!” Harry flashes me a wide grin then brushes a tear from my cheek with a tender touch. My heart flutters in my chest; when our eyes meet, his smile softens, goes caring and sad at the edges. “We’ll find him.”

I nod shakily, reach for his hand, and murmur out a thanks. He waits until my breathing is more steady before he pushes open his door. We walk side-by-side into the store, and I wonder if any of the few patrons in the library are going to recognise him. I’d chosen the public library instead of the one on campus simply because of the risks of him being recognised and swarmed; as evidenced by my fellow students, no one cares about the fact that he’s an actual person who might not want to be bothered.

Thankfully, we exit the building thirty minutes later without incident, a stack of papers in hand. I glance at the time on my phone screen, sighing. We’ve spent nearly all of the break I had between classes, which means I won’t have a lot of time to hang up the posters before I have to go to Development of Sociological Theory. Harry seems to notice my preoccupation and worry, because he sets a hand on my shoulder gently, stopping me from getting into my car. He doesn’t even need to ask - as soon as he looks at me with that concern in his soft green eyes, the little divot between his brows, I immediately explain without thought. Nodding slowly, he steps closer, tugs me in against his chest.

“How about we go back by the vet’s office, put up some posters there since that’s where Tubs got loose, then I’ll keep putting more up while you go to class?”

“Harry…”

His lips are warm and gentle on my forehead. “Don’t argue with me, or you’ll be late.”

We go up and down the block in opposite directions, taping the posters onto every hard surface we can find; I reach Doctor Simmons’s office first, and I slide the rest of my half of the posters into my bag then lean against my car and wait. Harry shows up after another few minutes, and something in my chest tightens at the sight. He’s texting, his attention firmly on the phone in his hand, so I let myself stare openly like I hadn’t earlier.

The jeans he’s wearing are relatively unremarkable beyond how they hug his legs, and his white T-shirt is similar to dozens I’ve seen before. But somehow, he makes the entire outfit seem completely different than anything else. Or maybe it’s because I’m beginning to know his personality, I’ve gotten to see how sweet and caring and generous he is...

“Anywhere you need me to drop you off?” I ask once he’s close enough that I don’t have to shout.

“Hmm? Oh, no, my mate’s on his way. I messaged him on our way back from the library, so he should be here any minute.”

“You sure?”

His laugh sends my heart racing, and I lean into his hand as it strokes over my hair. “I’m positive. You have school to get back to.”

“Well, I’m not leaving you here alone, so…”

“Stubborn girl. Fine. But don’t blame me if you’re late.”

True to Harry’s word, his friend pulls into the lot not even ten minutes later, and a heaviness fills my gut as he opens his arms. There is no hesitation when I step into his hold. He promises to text me later, and I nod against his chest. I force myself to not pout as he releases me, turns to walk away. I wave once he’s buckled into the passenger seat; he smiles brightly back at me before the car exits the parking lot, disappearing from sight.

_Well, fuck._


	5. [f i v e]

  


  
**Harry:** I think you should come over.  


I frown down at my phone then glance back up to make sure Professor Callen hasn’t noticed he no longer has everyone’s attention. It’s been two days since I last saw Harry, and we’ve texted back and forth a few times, but there has been no indication that he would ever want to hang out, much less in anything other than a public space. I tap my index finger against the side of my phone as I think about what to say back. I decide on the truth instead of asking the dozens of questions I have.  


  


  
**Joey:** I'm in class rn.  
  
**Harry:** Oh! I thought it was out already…  
**Harry:** Okay well, come over when you’re done  
  
**Joey:** Okay???  


The only response I get is an address, so I send back a thumbs-up then try to focus on the lecture. It isn’t easy, and I just know I’m going to have to ask one of my classmates for a copy of their notes. Callen eventually dismisses the class, which is for the best. Over half the students in the room are barely awake even though it’s the middle of the afternoon, and the rest of them look like they are about ten seconds of boring droning away from running straight through the walls in their attempts to escape. I shove my laptop into my bag and join the rush out the door; my confusion at Harry’s text won’t allow me to lag behind as I normally do.

I bring up the address in the Maps, press the button to start the route, and reverse out of the parking spot. It takes nearly an hour to reach the destination due to traffic - and one wrong turn. By the time I pull up into the half-circle drive, my frustration is through the roof, and I’m cursing Harry under my breath. I make sure my bag is tucked under the passenger seat before I step out of the car, locking the doors before I turn to face the house in front of me.

I clap a hand over my mouth to muffle the squeak that threatens to come out. What I’m staring at is something I could never even _dream_ of stepping foot into, but here I am, about to knock on the front door. A floating kind of headiness takes residence in my brain, and I let myself enjoy it just for a moment before squashing it down. Feet planted firmly on solid ground once more, I make my way up the short sidewalk and ignore the twinge of embarrassment that reminds me I’m seriously under-dressed to be entering a home like this. I hadn’t planned on this when I’d gotten dressed this morning, so my cut-off jean shorts and faded Bon Jovi T-shirt are going to have to do. And Harry will just have to deal with how unimpressive my outfit is.

Harry opens the door before I even get the chance to knock. I frown at the way he glances behind me then over his shoulder; his grip isn’t exactly gentle like I’m used to when he tugs me into the foyer and shuts the door with a slam. He turns to stare at me, a smile fighting to break free. His green eyes are brighter than I’ve seen them before, and there are two splotches of red high up on his sharp cheekbones. I raise a brow when it becomes apparent that he isn’t going to speak.

“Uh, Harry? What’s going on?”

“I, uh, I have something for you.”

“I swear to god, if you’re going to try to murder me, at least let me change into something a little more respectable first,” I mutter darkly even as I follow him through the archway to what appears to be a living room.

“No murder, I swear. But… you might die.”

“That’s not help - holy fucking shit, _Tubs_?”

“I found him about an hour ago,” Harry announces as he bounces on the balls of his feet, clearly pleased with the surprise, and Tubs streaks to the other side of the room at the high pitch of my voice. “He evidently remembered how to get back to the vet’s office, because he was in the bushes when I went back to look for him.”

I pivot on my heel to stare at him, wide-eyed and awestruck. My hands come up to cup his cheeks. “Fucking Hell, Harry, I could kiss you right now.”

Before I can overthink it, I stretch up on my tiptoes and press my lips firmly to his. It’s a quick thing, contact then gone, and then I turn and cross the living room, drop to my knees on the floor in front of the ornate display case. Tubs hisses from his hiding place, and I lean over until my head rests on the floor to stare at my cat.

“You utter bastard, how dare you make me worry like this. C’mon, fat man, I think it’s time you come on home.”

Tubs yowls and curls himself into an even tighter ball, scooting further away from me. I roll my eyes, but I can’t deny the affection I feel for the cantankerous feline - nor can I blame him for his behaviour. I’d probably be just as freaked out as he is if I was in his shoes. Or fur. I stretch out to lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, leaving my hand near Tubs for whenever he decides to come out. Harry’s feet _pit-pat_ across the cold tile as he moves about.

The house is silent, eerily so, for almost twenty minutes. I bite back a squeak when something cold and wet presses to my fingertips, force myself to stay relaxed as Tubs confirms my existence. Harry snorts off to my right when I groan loudly at the sudden addition of an extra eighteen pounds on my belly, and I lift my head to look at my cat. His purring is so comforting after so long without him, and he stares at me through half-closed eyes. I run a finger lightly over the bridge of his nose, blinking back tears when he makes that chirping noise of his that I love.

“You dick, you aren’t supposed to scare me like that. What would I do if you didn’t come back? Did you think about that, Mister McFatty?” I slowly sit up, though Tubs doesn’t make it easy. “I swear, I’m getting you a fucking leash. I’m not doing this again.”

Tubs merely gazes at me, his yellow-green eyes calm and peaceful, and I duck my head to kiss the top of his skull. Muttering that he’s an asshole again, I scritch beneath his chin as I turn my head to catch Harry’s attention. His expression clears up as soon as he registers that I’m looking at him; the divot between his brows disappears, and I know I can’t prove it, but the smile he gives me is definitely forced.

“Thank you so much, Harry. I, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

His lips thin with his confusion. “Why would you need to?”

“You - do you really _not_ understand?” I shake my head, carefully slip my hands under my cat to lift him as I stand. Harry shifts over to give me more space to sit on the sofa. “No one would ever have helped a complete stranger the way you have. Sure, they might have, y’know, helped look for a few minutes, but they certainly wouldn’t have continued to look once I was gone, or put up posters, or kept me distracted when I was on the verge of panic attacks. You didn’t bother to ask me why my cat is so important to me. You just knew he was, and you helped.”

“Well, I’m glad I could.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done, and I swear that I will manage to pay you back somehow.”

He laughs softly, shrugging. “I’m not worried. Are you going to need help getting him to your car?”

I pause, stare down at the cat sleeping in my lap, before lifting my gaze to meet Harry’s with a sheepish nod. He chuckles and rises to his feet, leaving the room on quite footsteps. I run my fingers through Tubs’s fur. The fear that’s been a constant presence since his disappearance has faded; my relief at having him back is overwhelming, heady. I sniff back the tears that spring to my eyes. Between the panic and the guilt, I don’t think it’ll take long at all tonight to fall asleep - I’m utterly exhausted.

Harry comes back with a box in his hands, and he passes it over, rolling his eyes when I don’t immediately take it. The wetness in my eyes spills over as I look over the pictures on the box. He’s bought a carrier identical to the one that broke. My breathing is unsteady while I pull the item from its box, and Tubs wakes, ears flattening against his skull. Thankfully, Harry is there to catch the cat before he can jump off my lap, and even though he winces, Harry doesn’t let go despite Tubs’s violent wiggling and the way his skin is being torn by my cat’s claws. I get the carrier set up properly, hold it open so Harry can force Tubs in, and then rapidly zip it up.

“Thank you. So much.”

I initiate the hug this time; I don’t miss the shocked expression on Harry’s face as I step forward, snaking my arms around his middle. He holds me close and tight for a long moment, and I breathe in deeply, let the scent of him consume me. His warmth lingers on my skin even after I pull away. His hand is gentle on my lower back as he walks with me through the foyer and out to my car. Once I’ve gotten Tubs and the carrier buckled in the front passenger seat, I face Harry again. My words dry up in my throat, and I shrug awkwardly.

“Thanks.”

“You can stop thanking me now, Jo,” he says on a laugh. “I’m just glad he’s going back home.”

Another embrace, then I’m sliding in behind the steering wheel and starting the car up. Harry waits on the porch until I pull out of his driveway, the evening sunlight glinting gold off the glass in the door as he closes it. I adjust my sun-visor and turn on the radio to drown out Tubs’s vocal displeasure.


	6. [s i x]

Tubs bolts from the carrier as soon as I unzip it, and I watch him disappear down the hall and into my bedroom. The blinds in my window clatter noisily; I smile to myself and climb to my feet. Flipping the switch to the foyer light, dousing the entryway in darkness, I toe off my shoes, kick them to the pile next to the wall, and shove the carrier into the coat closet. The years I’ve lived in this house lend experience, and I don’t stumble as I make my way to the living room. Bothering Tubs right now is an awful idea, so I flop on the sofa, turn on the television, and watch _Psych_ as I wait for my cat to be content again.

He comes back out after an hour, jumping onto the couch and curling in a ball on my lap. I stroke his fur absentmindedly but don’t look away from the TV. It’s one of my favourite scenes - the one where Shawn is about to tell Chief Vick the truth but Juliet stops him. The idea of someone loving another enough to ruin their own life by stopping the charades, of loving someone enough to stop them… I like to think that I had that with Wil, that I always would have. As if he can read my mind, Tubs chirps and nudges my hand with his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just miss him is all.”

My phone vibrates in my bag next to me, and I dig it out from under my laptop and notebooks. Tubs’s ears flatten as he’s disrupted; I hush him affectionately and go back to petting him with one hand even as I bring up my text messages.  


  


  
**Harry:** Did you make it home safely?  


I smile and apologise to my cat before tucking my hand under his belly. He lets out a soft growling noise and tries to escape, but I’m faster, snapping a photo quickly. His back claws dig into my thigh as he runs away from me the instant I release him, and I attach the selfie to a text. The picture makes me laugh aloud - in it, I’m grinning widely, almost manically, as Tubs’s slightly-blurred face is twisted to the side, mouth open in a hiss.  


  
**Harry:** I'm glad to see your smile. It's as beautiful as you are.  


I scrunch up my nose, attach three eye-roll emojis, and send it off with a _Thank you_. My attention is dragged from the text conversation by the front door opening and the telltale sound of my dad’s work boots hitting the hardwood floor. He waves at me as he passes through the living room, and I frown. He’s always so tired lately, and I hate that his job is so physically demanding. He isn’t as young as he used to be; he’s certainly not getting any younger. His bedroom door closes, and I pad down the hall after a few minutes to knock on it.

“Hey, Dad? What’cha want for dinner?”

“Chinese?”

“Yeah, I’m not spending sixty bucks for three meals.” I pause, thinking. “Homemade Chinese okay?”

He grunts in response, which I take as agreement, and I head to the kitchen. Thankfully, we have all the stuff needed for General Tso’s chicken from the last time my dad wanted Chinese food. I open Pandora on my phone, setting it to the Stevie Nicks station, and turn up the volume while I set about making dinner. Tubs comes out of my room to investigate after about twenty minutes; he jumps up onto the dining table and watches with wide eyes as I move around.

“Hey, something smells great.”

“Thanks, Henry. Wanna set the table while I finish up?”

“No problem, hun.” Henry comes into the kitchen, skidding to a stop when he sees the feline on the table. “Tubs is home!”

Task forgotten, Henry sits in one of the chairs, immediately scratching under Tubs’s chin. My cat magnanimously allows the attention, soaks it up without hesitation. I huff out a laugh but let them bond, taking the skillet off the burner while I reach for the cupboard with the plates. I call for my dad to let him know dinner is ready as Henry finally grabs silverware from the drawer.

Tubs doesn’t leave the kitchen as we sit down to eat, and unlike every other night, we don’t shoo him from the room. We get halfway through the meal when my dad clears his throat, turns his gaze on me. I know what he is about to say before he even opens his mouth; I’m proven right when he asks if my “friend” is the one who found Tubs. I roll my eyes, push my chicken and rice around my plate. But the one thing I’ve never been able to do is lie to my father, so I give him a jerky shrug.

“Yeah, he texted me earlier to let me know he’d found Tubs out by the vet’s office.”

“And why was he back there?”

“Probably because he recognised the building.”

“You know I’m not talking about the cat, Jo Beth.”

I sigh, standing up, and carry my plate to the sink. “Because he knew I had class and wouldn’t be able to get back there, and Tubs would possibly be gone by the time I got there.”

“He sounds like a nice guy,” announces Henry, and my dad scoffs. “Oh, stop it, Dennis. She’s your daughter, but you can’t always think the worst about every boy who looks her way.”

“And this is my cue to go somewhere that isn’t here. I cooked, you two can clean. Love you!”

I grab my phone off the counter on my way through the living room and disappear into my bedroom. Tubs follows obediently. Closing the door on the argument that’s brewing in the dining area, I flop face-first onto my bed, groan when Tubs decides to walk across my back. I don’t get the chance to protest as he lies down on my spine; his purring vibrates against me, and I decide to just relax. That he’s home again is amazing.

I tuck my arms under my head and stare at the wall across from me. As I lie there with my cat curled up on my back, I let my mind wander. I can’t help but wonder what Wil would think of me today. I’ve grown a lot in the last couple of years, become more confident in who I am as a person; losing him has been a large part of that growth. It forced me to step out of the idyllic world I’d been living in with him and into reality. My father and uncle had been so wonderful helping me through the pain; they hadn’t forced me to make any decisions regarding where I’d live, they helped me sell the house once I had chosen to move back home. If I hadn’t had them through everything, I’m sure it all would have overwhelmed me and I would have crumbled under the pressure of trying to keep myself together.

The picture on my bedside table sends a pang through my heart when I turn my gaze to it. Seeing Wil so happy, knowing I will never get the chance to see that grin or his dark eyes lighting up… I breathe out shakily, smiling against the tears. No matter the end, I’m grateful for the year and a half we had as husband and wife. Sure, I would have liked more time with him, but what we had were perfect enough while it lasted. It hadn’t taken long for Uncle Henry to come around on the idea of me marrying Wil, even though he had proposed after only five months. My dad, on the other hand, wasn’t as thrilled, but he supported our decision.

I’m ripped from my thoughts by the buzzing of my phone next to me. Tubs lets out a quiet growl when I roll over, but he moves out of the way anyway. I press a kiss to his nose before unlocking my phone. A smile tugs at my lips at the sight of Harry’s name at the top of my screen.  


  


  
**Harry:** I know this might be too forward since we’ve only been talking for 3 days, but can I take you to dinner?  
  
**Joey:** Like... a date?  
**Joey:** Are you serious???  
  
**Harry:** Is that a no?  
  
**Joey:** It’s not a no. It’s a “Are you serious??” Wtf, why would you want to go on a date with ME??  
  
**Harry:** Why wouldn't I?  


I sigh, setting my phone down, and cover my face with my hands. What am I supposed to say? Harry is such a fantastic guy from what I’ve gotten to know, but I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship. It’s been two years, and I know I should be, but… I just don’t know. Exhaling unsteadily, I grab my phone and give him as honest an answer as I can. 

  


  
**Joey:** Sorry but I'll have to think about this. It's... a lot to process rn. I promise I'll let you know as soon as I have an answer.  
  
**Harry:** Take your time, love x  


His response came quickly, as if he had expected to reassure me, and it causes something inside of me to tighten. I stare down at the four words, wondering why the Hell they would be affecting me this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm in awe at how beautiful this man is. seriously.


	7. [s e v e n]

There are times in every girl’s life that she needs her mother - first menstrual cycle, first kiss, first date, prom, her wedding… Without a maternal influence, life can be really difficult for a girl. And sure, my father and Uncle Henry have done the best they can over the last eleven years, but they haven’t exactly been the most nurturing. Starting my period for the first time had been an absolutely awful experience, and I still can’t look old Mrs Reynolds in the eye after she explained everything about puberty to my eleven-year-old self. She’d taken on the task rather well for it being shoved onto her unexpectedly by two uncomfortable bachelors and an awkward kid.

And this right here? This is the first time I’ve wished for my mother to be around. Even the mortification I endured during “the Talk” with Mrs Reynolds hadn’t made me wish for Dianne to still be in my life, but this is entirely different. My chest twinges with the phantom pains of spending the last decade without her; it doesn’t hurt, not really, to know that I wasn’t worth sticking around, especially since I know how hard my dad has worked to raise me properly and give me a good life, to make it so that I don’t miss out on anything that having a mother would provide.

I re-read through the text thread with Harry, though it does nothing to help me make up my mind. If I’m being honest - and I try to never lie to myself - a large part of me wants to say yes, go on a date with him, and see where it goes, but there’s another part of me that still hasn’t fully let go of Wil. The warring sections aren’t compatible; I can’t date or be happy with Harry while I’m still holding on to the past, and I don’t want to put the marriage to rest. Saying goodbye to that bit of my life fills me with dread. I sigh, lock my phone. Though I don’t feel remotely tired, I pad across the room and flip the light switch.

The moon shines brightly in the sky, the light seeping through the gauzy curtains over my window and illuminating my room in a soft, hazy glow. Tubs’s eyes glitter when he looks over at me from the bed, and my lips twitch upwards at his plaintive meow. Once I’m back on the bed, he pushes himself to his feet and curls up by my side; his nose is cold, wet, as he presses it to my chin.

“What should I do, fat boy?”

He doesn’t give an answer, not like I really expected him to. I exhale heavily and focus on relaxing my body, section by section, starting with my feet. I’m asleep before I reach my spine.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?”

I glance up from my breakfast as Henry emerges from the hallway. Sighing, I scoop up a spoonful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and let it drop back into the bowl. “Dad gone?”

“Yeah, he had to go to work early. Why?”

“I… I got asked out. On a date.”

“By the friend who found Tubs, I assume.” Henry pours two mugs of coffee, sliding one across the table to me, then settles into the chair to my right. “And you’re not sure if you should?”

“I mean, no, I’m not sure. He’s great, he really is. God, Henry, he’s so funny and smart and so sweet. But I don’t know if I should because of Wil.”

“Ah. Well, I can’t make the decision for you. This is something you gotta choose for yourself. Just know that if you decide to go on this date, I’ll keep your dad distracted.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

“Okay, kiddo, I gotta get to work. Have fun in class.”

He leaves then, and I stare down at the cereal, now soggy in the bowl. My appetite is gone in the face of my uncle being incredibly unhelpful; dumping it into the trash, I rinse the bowl out and set it in the sink before heading to my bedroom. I change quickly into a pair of shorts and a tank-top, then pad across the hall to the bathroom. I rush through brushing my hair and brushing my teeth, trip over Tubs as he walks under my feet on my way out to the living room.

  
**Joey:** I’m sorry, I still don’t have an answer for you…    


I toss my phone into the cup holder and start up my car. The song I’ve come to love is playing when the radio kicks on. Putting the car in reverse, I sing along to the voice crooning _Just stop your crying, it’s a sign of the times, we gotta get away from here_. A loud buzzing fills the air, and the song cuts off as my ringtone comes through the speakers. My brows furrow when I see the name on the display, but I answer Harry’s call regardless.

“Uh, hi?”

“Hey, are you busy?”

“I’m just driving to class. Why, what’s up?”

His sigh fills the speakers, and I wince at the crackling noise. “This is awkward, isn’t it. Sorry. I’m also driving, so I didn’t want to text. But I just wanted to tell you I meant what I said last night. Take your time, all the time you need. I’m not going to pressure you. And if, if you decide that you don’t want to go on a date with me, that’s fine, too.”

“Harry...”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” _And that’s what makes this such a hard decision_, I think but don’t say. “Okay, well, I am almost to class. Can I call you later?”

“Of course.”

I murmur out a goodbye before hanging up. A sigh escapes, slowly pushing itself out from between my teeth. My finger taps on the steering wheel as I drive; I still have at least another twenty minutes before I reach campus, but I don’t feel guilty about the white lie I told Harry. It’s difficult enough to think clearly when I’m talking to him, and I really don’t want to say yes to dinner with him only to end up feeling like I rushed into it or, worse still, regretting it.

By the time I walk out of class, I’m no more knowledgeable in the lesson my professor was trying to teach, but I have a Word document with a pro and con list of dating Harry. The negative column is unsurprisingly scarce - besides his fame, I have yet to find something about him that doesn’t draw me in - while the positive column was overwhelming in its numbers: sweet, funny, didn’t judge me for freaking out like I did when Tubs first disappeared, generous... The list goes on and on. I slide into the driver’s seat of my car, stare out at the stretch of green grass in front of the parking lot. It hurts to think that I’d essentially be letting go of the last connection to Wil that I have left, but there is an aching in my chest when I think about what I could be giving up when it comes to Harry.

  
**Joey:**Dinner sounds great.    


“Where are we going?” I ask again, and Harry flashes me a quick grin before focusing on the road. The clock on the dashboard reads almost nine at night, and there are very few other drivers out. My uncle had kept his promise of distracting my dad long enough for me to slip out of the house for the date I agreed to five days ago. When I realise Harry isn’t going to tell me, I sigh dramatically and flop back in my seat. “Har_ry_.”

“You are very impatient.”

“I’m not good at waiting for surprises,” I admit, giving him a sheepish smile, though he doesn’t see it.

“Trust me, you’ll think it’s worth the wait.” His _I hope_ is quiet, nearly inaudible, so I pretend I didn’t hear it at all.

“Again with the trusting!”

His laugh is warm, sudden, and I smile to myself at the sound. His hand slips from the wheel, goes back, then he reaches across the centre console to lace his fingers with mine. I squeeze his hand gently; tension I hadn’t noticed eases from his shoulders, and it hits me - he’s just as nervous for this date as I am. I shift in my seat so I can take in the sight of him. His outfit is no help in determining where we’re going, but the fact he’s told me to wear something casual hopefully means it’s nowhere fancy.

The beach stretches out before us, the sand nearly white in the glow from the moon, and the waves crash gently along the shore. He takes off his shoes as he stands next to the car, and I follow his lead, pass my flats over to him at his insistence, and wait for him to finish whatever he’s doing. I’m not entirely shocked to see the basket in his hands when he faces me again. I tuck his keys into my pocket so they don’t get lost, lock up the car. He leads me to a spot just out of reach of the water, and we settle down onto the ground, soft and still sun-warmed. His skin is pale in the moonlight, almost ethereal, and the green of his eyes is bright, vivid, as he stares at me.

“This is... definitely worth it,” I tell him a few minutes later; my heart clenches tightly in my chest at the way his lips quirk upward, the softest curve to his mouth calling me to kiss him.

“I’m glad. I, well, I figured if we came late enough in the day, there would be less chance of us getting interrupted, and if we tried going to a restaurant, it really wouldn’t have worked.”

“This is wonderful, Harry, really.” Biting my lip, I lean over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

The food he’s packed isn’t fancy, not by any means. We don’t really speak much as we share the fruits and vegetables, but his arm stays pressed against mine while we sit on the beach, our legs spread out in front of us. Swallowing the bite of celery in my mouth, I nudge his shin with my foot.

“Thanks for being so great about Tubs. I’m... god, I’m sorry for how much of a bitch I was at first.”

“I told you, I understood why. You were scared.”

“I never explained why he was so important to me.” I drag in an unsteady breath, turn my gaze back to the water that dances and glitters with the touch of moonlight on its surface. “I told you I adopted him from the shelter, but... I actually adopted him with Wil as a wedding gift to ourselves.”

“Oh, so you’re, what, a divorcee?”

“Uh, no, not quite.”

His voice has lost all warmth when he says, “So you’re still married.”

“I mean, technically, but not legally?”

“How is that even possible?”

The hurt and confusion on his face makes me want to cry. Here I am trying to explain, and instead, all I’m succeeding in doing is mucking everything up. I sigh, wipe the sand on my palm onto the leg of my jeans. “Can’t exactly be married to a dead guy, Harry.”

My admittedly morbid joke falls flat, the words hanging heavily in the air between us. Harry stares at me for a long moment; his mouth opens as if to say something but then closes without anything coming out. I force a smile and exhale shakily before I shrug.

“We’d been married for a little under two years when his heart just... stopped working. No warning whatsoever. One night, we’re going to bed happily married, and the next morning, I’m waking up a widow. Emergency got there too late to do anything. Coroner said he had undiagnosed cardiac issues that never presented before, so there was no way we could’ve seen it coming. Let me tell you, finding out your husband’s death was basically a matter of time doesn’t really do much to change how much it fucking hurts to have to plan his funeral.” I sniffle and brush a tear from my cheek. “So I guess since I never technically got a divorce, I’m still married, just without a husband.”

“Do you want to talk about him?” he asks, so quietly that I almost think I misheard him.

“Don’t you think that’d be a bit awkward for you? To have to hear about my dead husband on our first date?”

He shrugs, reaches for my hand; his thumb rubs gently across my knuckles. “Not really, I don’t think. I get the feeling you don’t get the chance to talk about him often. And well, I’ve two perfectly good ears in proper working condition.”

The weight on my shoulders seems to melt with his words, the ball of dread and finality in my gut loosening. I clear my throat, blinking rapidly to force away the tears. I hesitate for just a moment then rest my head on his shoulder and think about what I want to say.


	8. [e i g h t]

Talking about Wil doesn’t hurt nearly as much as I anticipated. The memories have always been wrapped in delicate silk, hidden away from the forefront of my mind, since the day I had to watch his casket lowered into the ground. I have been too scared to delve too deeply into the recollections, too afraid that they would fade from my mind more and more if I looked too closely. But here, under the silvery glow from the moon on the empty beach, the shore stretching for miles on either side as the ocean sings its tune... it feels right to put the memories into words. Harry doesn’t let go of my hand as I speak, and I cling fiercely to that warmth and comfort.

His presence steadies me, pushes me on, and I find myself going further back into my history, telling him about the first date Wil and I went on together - and how disastrous it had been. Our first fight as a married couple. The awkward morning after that fight when we had tried pretending it hadn’t happened. Harry stays silent through everything, but his arms instantly come up to wrap around my shoulders when the first tear falls. I lean against him, though I don’t shatter apart like I expect to. His lips press to my hair, and I close my eyes at the gentle pressure.

“I didn’t want to come with you,” I admit on a whisper, and his hold on me tightens fractionally. “I mean, I did, but... I thought if I did, it would be like saying Wil wasn’t such a huge part of my life.”

“That’s understandable, love.”

“Is it, though? I still have our rings, I still have the photos and memories, so how could going on one date mean I’d be turning my back on what he and I had?”

Harry shrugs, sighing softly. “Logic and emotion don’t often coexist happily. Our heart can tell us one thing while our minds tell us the complete opposite. You just have to remind yourself that it’s not necessarily a ‘this versus that’ kind of thing. Being scared of something doesn’t mean you can’t do it, or that the fact you _want_ to doesn’t mean you can’t be afraid of doing it.”

“I’m glad I did.”

“So am I.”

We sit there for a few minutes longer, and I let myself relax into the solid heat of him against me, let myself learn the way he feels on my skin. It isn’t until a shiver runs through me that he pulls away, and the spell is broken. He taps the screen of his phone, frowns.

“What is it?”

“It’s almost eleven.” He gives me an apologetic smile. “Your dad is going to want to kill me, isn’t he?”

“It’s a distinct possibility. But don’t worry, I’ll protect you from my big, bad dad if you’re so scared.”

“You are so mean!”

He flicks the end of my nose teasingly, and I let out a dramatic gasp before pinching his side. He catches my hands, surprisingly an easy feat, and our fingers lace together without hesitation. The amusement melts from his face as he stares down at our linked hands; I don’t know what I’m expecting, but the sudden ringing of my phone isn’t it. I squeak and jerk in surprise, flipping Harry off when he laughs at me. Muttering under my breath, I lift my phone up to see _**Unc**_ on the screen.

“Can I help you, kind sir?”

“Dennis is going insane, Jo, and I don’t think he believed me when I said you were in a study group. You better get home before he decides to report you missing or something.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Henry. I’m on my way back.” I end the call and sigh, unhappy that the night is coming to an end. “Sorry, my dad is losing his mind right now.”

“Let’s get you home then.”

Harry holds me steady as I brush the sand from my jeans and bare feet, then closes the door gently behind me once I’m sat in the passenger seat. There is no hesitation when he reaches for my hand this time; I settle comfortably into my seat as the tires eat up the miles between the beach and my house. I really don’t want tonight to be over. No matter how conflicted I felt before accepting the offer of a date, it’s been such a wonderful few hours with Harry, and the fears that consumed me have faded enough, replaced by the fragile blossom of hope for what’s ahead.

Too soon, Harry pulls up to the sidewalk outside of my house, puts the car in park, and I stare at the darkened windows with a frown. When I turn to face Harry, I find him already watching me closely. His lips quirk upwards slightly.

“Do you want me to walk you up?”

“Unless you want to meet my dad, that’s probably not a good idea.”

His soft chuckle fills the car, and I bite my lip before I can blurt out how much I love hearing his laugh. The words are stolen from me when he leans over, his hand coming up to cradle my jaw, and my breath hitches as his lips brush mine. A sharp zip of electricity races down my spine, my heart hammers beneath my ribs, and my body floods with warmth. I stifle a quiet whimper and his breath fans across my face; pushing closer, I tilt my head and kiss him more insistently, firmly. His thumb strokes along my cheek, his lips parting under mine. He tastes of fruit, celery, and something I can’t identify. My lungs burn with lack of oxygen by the time we separate.

“Fuck,” he whispers and abruptly pulls back; I follow his wide-eyed gaze to see my dad standing on the porch, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t think I’d like to meet your father tonight. I’m sure he’s a lovely man, but I, er, have prior engagements?”

I giggle, stretching to kiss him again. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. Drive home safely, and let me know when you make it.”

“Of course.”

Harry’s eyes seem to glow in the light from the dashboard, and he brushes a lock of hair from my face before he leans over to capture my mouth once more. I pull away slowly, reluctantly conceding that our date is officially over. I step out of the car and ignore the fact my father is still watching us closely. Before I close the door, I duck down to smile at Harry.

“I had a wonderful time tonight.”

“Jo Beth.”

I grimace at the tightness in my dad’s voice. Harry’s lips twist into a sympathetic smile, and I roll my eyes and push the car door shut. I know my dad is waiting for me, but I make no moves toward the house until the brake-lights of Harry’s car disappear from view. Then, and only then, do I turn and make my way up the sidewalk. Stopping a foot away from my dad, I give him a bright, innocent smile and bounce on the balls of my feet.

“Hi, Dad. Beautiful night, isn’t it.”

“Do you want to explain why your uncle had to lie to me tonight, tell me you were with a group of friends from school studying for an exam, and now it’s after eleven at night, and you’re just now coming home? Who was that?”

“I… Okay, fine. You’re right. I shouldn’t have had Uncle Henry lie to you, but, in my defence, he offered first. I just took him up on that offer. I just - Dad, I just wanted to go on this date without a million questions first. If it worked out, I would’ve told you about it. If it hadn’t, then there wouldn’t have been anything to talk about, and no one would’ve been any wiser about me making a fool of myself.”

“And how did it go?” he asks after a long minute in which he stares at me as if I’ve grown another three heads.

I push past him into the house without answering. He follows closely behind, and the scrape of the deadbolt is loud in the quiet. The television is off, the living room illuminated only by the table lamp, and I stare down at my empty hands. In my rush to not further antagonise my father, I forgot to grab my flats from Harry’s car before he drove away. I sigh and make my way to the kitchen for a drink.

“Jo.”

“It… it was great, Dad. It really was.” Once I have a glass filled with water, I turn and face my dad. We’ve never really been the type to have heart-to-heart conversations, but he’s always cared. No matter how awkward this kind of talk is for me, I don’t want to hide anything from him. “He, uh, he took me to the beach for a picnic. We were the only ones there, so it was quiet, peaceful, y’know? We talked a lot. Literal hours, actually. I, uh, I told him about Wil.”

My dad’s brows furrow, his hand reaching for me, and I step into his embrace. His heart beats rhythmically under my ear. “How did he take it?”

“Rather well, once I explained that I’m not cheating on my husband. He let me talk about Wil.”

“Wow. Sounds like a terrific guy.”

“He is.”

“Just, just be careful, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Trust me, I’m going into this with my eyes wide open.”

My dad drops a kiss to my hair, pats my back, then steps away. I watch him make his way to his bedroom, wave when he stops outside the door. His smile is reassuring, the same smile I grew up with, the smile that tells me everything is going to be okay. His door closes with a quiet click, and I finish my drink before going to my room. Tubs chirps sleepily on the bed when I step inside. I toss my phone onto the mattress, strip down to my underwear, and flop down onto the bed, bouncing a bit before I sprawl out. There’s a sense of peace inside of me that assuages all the doubts and worries, and my heart feels lighter than it has in such a long time.

  
**Harry:** I've made it home so you can stop worrying now.   


I peel my eyes open to stare blearily at the text, having to reread it a few times before the blurred letters start to make sense. A lazy smile tugs at my lips, and I slowly poke out a response with one finger.

  
**Joey:** I had a really great time tonight. Thank you.  
  
**Harry:** Thank you for agreeing to the date. I’m glad I could make the time enjoyable.  
**Harry:** And thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about Will (I don’t know how to spell his name, so if I’m wrong, apologies!). It means a lot that you did.  
**Harry:** It’s almost one. Get some sleep, love. xx    



	9. [n i n e]

I stretch out on my towel, sighing blissfully as the heat envelopes my skin. Since it’s nearing half seven in the evening, the beach isn’t as packed as it normally would have been, so the only sounds I can hear are the waves, the birds, and the occasional shout from a child further along the shore. It has been two days since my fantastic date with Harry, and the weightless feeling has yet to fade. Telling him about Wil, getting to talk about the wonderful memories I have of my husband, took away a large fraction of my worries.

Harry had been an absolute angel in his reaction to the news. I honestly hadn’t expected him to be so wonderful about it. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he walked away without letting me explain, but he hadn’t. He’d stayed and held me through the pain of talking about Wil and everything I’ve had to suffer through with his death.

Evidently, my dad had told Henry sometime between me going to bed and waking up, and so I’d left my room the morning following the date to find my uncle sitting at the kitchen table with a patient smile on his face. I’d given the same story I told my dad, but while my dad had been slightly apprehensive, Henry was excited about the idea of me putting myself out there. He’s made comments in the last year that I need to make myself happy, to take the chance on a relationship again.

A beeping sound comes from my tote bag, and I sigh, sitting up, and push my sunglasses toward my hairline so I can find my phone in the depths of the bag.

  
**Harry:** You look amazing   


My brows furrow, and I look up from the screen to scan the others around me. The phone vibrates in my hand, a grey bubble with _You’re not looking in the RIGHT place_ appearing on the screen under the last text. My head snaps to my right once I’ve read the message. A surprised laugh escapes, and I shake my head as Harry advances.

“That was a dick move, freaking me out like that,” I announce, though my smile betrays me, and he sits and nudges me with his shoulder. “To what do I owe this wonderful surprise?”

“I’m sorry for scaring you. And I had some free time, so I figured I’d come see my favourite beautiful girl.”

“Oh? Where is she, then?”

His hand is warm, steady, as he laces our fingers together, and it isn’t just the setting sun that heats my skin. “I’ll let you know if I see her.”

“Ass!”

He doesn’t let me tug away, pulls me into his side with a laugh, and I pout in mock hurt. He presses a kiss to my temple, lips curved into a smile. I let my head fall to his shoulder and stare out at the water. I’ve always loved the ocean, no matter how much it terrifies me; something about knowing there’s unidentified life deep below the surface and just how far down the water stretches has never failed to give me goosebumps. We don’t speak for a long while, both of us just enjoying each other’s presence.

Black silhouettes of birds streak across the golden sky, disappear into the horizon. Pinks and purples edge orange before melting into a rich navy overhead. Though the city lies behind us, I’m consumed by the sensation of being in an entirely different world here under the darkening sky, somewhere nothing can touch us or bring us back to reality. I feel as if he and I are the grains of sand below us - minuscule in the grand scheme but existing nonetheless. My breath comes out in a shuddering gust as stars spark to life above our heads, the sun finally having said goodnight to the day and given up its time to shine.

Eventually, even the best things must come to an end. The moon is beginning its trek across the sky by the time I stand and tug my shorts and tank-top on over my bikini. Harry’s eyes track my movements, and I suppress a shiver at the way the green is almost liquid in the pale moonlight. He helps shake the sand out of my towel, passing it over, and his hand on my wrist stops me as I turn to stuff the towel into my tote bag. I don’t get the chance to question him before he’s cupping my jaw and ducking down slightly to kiss me. It’s a soft, chaste thing, but my breath hitches at the contact.

“I’ve really wanted to do that since I dropped you at home,” he whispers once we’ve parted.

I huff out a quiet laugh, loop my arms around his torso, and stretch up onto my tiptoes to press my lips to his. He takes it as the permission I intend it to be, pulling me closer, and I melt against him. This kiss isn’t as gentle, stokes the fire in my belly with each brush of his tongue against mine. My heart races under my ribs, and I wonder idly if he can feel how much he’s affecting me. Every nerve ending in my body lights up with the crashing wave of want that rips through me; heat pools in my gut, my brain and body surprisingly both in agreement about this. Unfortunately, Harry pulls away far too soon, but I take pleasure in the fact that his pupils are blown wide, black overtaking emerald, as he stares down at me.

“If we keep doing this, I’m not going to want to stop.”

“So why don’t we… _not_ stop?”

He groans low in his throat, dropping a kiss to my hair. “Oh, love, you have no idea how much I want to. Just not tonight.”

I swallow back the disappointment, letting the logical side of my mind remind me we’ve only gone on one date, it’s been less than a month that we have known each other. It took me three months to be comfortable with the thought of having sex with Wil for the first time, so the fact that Harry isn’t wanting to take me to bed right this instant should be a good thing. It is a good thing, I remind myself as I take a step back.

Thankfully, it isn’t awkward between us as I scoop up my tote, slip the strap onto my shoulder, and reach for his hand. We walk back up to the parking strip with our fingers intertwined and little distance to separate us. A small voice in the back of my mind tells me to slow down, I’m trying to go too fast with him, but I push it away. Right now, I just want to focus on the peaceful easy feeling I get when he’s around.

“Do you need a ride?” I ask softly after we come to a stop by my car, gazing up at him and hoping against hope that I can have even a few more minutes with him.

He nods, to my relief, and though I want to ask him how he got here if he didn’t drive, I keep the question to myself. He rounds the vehicle as I slide into the driver’s seat, start up the engine. I grab my phone from my tote before tossing the bag into the backseat, and open the Pandora app. Within seconds, the soft strains of piano keys come through the speakers; Harry’s lips curve into a smile.

“Good song.”

I grin but don’t bother responding. Instead, I adjust the volume and start singing _Well, I never thought I’d make here in Hollywood_. I can feel Harry staring at me in the dim lighting from the dashboard, his gaze heavy on my skin. I ignore it and focus on driving. He helpfully gives directions every so often, but other than that, the only sound in the car comes from the Stevie Nicks station on my Pandora.

Harry hesitates once I come to a stop in his driveway, giving his house a long look before he turns to me. I turn down the music and force a small smile. His eyes tell me it falls flat, and he leans over the centre console to run a finger along my cheekbone.

“I hate saying goodbye,” I mumble, turn my head to press a kiss to his hand.

“So do I.” Unfortunately, my words don’t convince him to stay with me, to run away from the world and our responsibilities; he tugs me forward gently, and the kiss he gives me lingers long after he’s pulled away. “Goodnight, Jo.”

“Night, Harry.”

I wait until he disappears into his house before pulling away. The drive home seems hours long, each mile that gets eaten up by my tires stretching on forever. I swallow thickly and wonder how the Hell I could have fallen so damn hard so fast.

The texts and FaceTime calls over the next few weeks help ease me through missing him. He’s gotten busy with his music and other ventures, which has cut into the time we can spend together. It doesn’t help that I end up getting a job at the campus bookstore now that the summer has started; though I like having employment - mostly because it means I can get a jumpstart on paying off my student loans - I hate that it keeps me from being able to see Harry whenever I want. A bonus to working at the campus bookstore is literally no one expects Harry Styles’s girlfriend to be employed there, so all I get is the occasional freak-out from students whenever they come in.

I set the box-cutter to the side and yank the flaps of the box up, tearing the remnants of tape still clinging tightly to the cardboard. The bell over the door chimes brightly, but I focus on unloading the shipment of books that have come in for the start of term next month, figuring Kristalyn can handle helping the customer.

“Excuse me.”

I don’t look away from where I’m scanning the textbooks into the system, even as I respond in my best customer-service voice, “Just a moment, please, but if you’re in a rush, I’m sure my coworker is able to assist you.”

“Excuse me, I’m a very important person, and I demand your attention.”

I’ve always prided myself on keeping my cool when it comes to annoying people; unless it involved my cat, I was able to ignore the rudeness with which others are so willing to treat their fellows. But something about this guy thinking he’s too special to have to wait a minute or, gasp, go find another associate who isn’t busy, makes my temper snap. I slam the books in my hand onto the counter.

“I don’t give a damn how important you think you are, _Chad_,” because his voice told me he was most likely one of those Chads you meet who are so entitled, they can’t see over their self-appointed privilege what garbage guys they really are. I continue speaking even as I turn to the customer, “but I’m - oh, what the fuck. Damn it, Harry!”

Harry’s eyes sparkle, and he gives me a cheeky grin. “Nice to know you’ve forgotten your boyfriend’s name.”

I round the counter and swat at his arm before pulling him in for a hug. His arms wrap around me, and I close my eyes as the scent I’ve come to know as him fills my nose. We stand there for a long minute until I pull back.

“What are you doing here?”

“When is your shift over?”

I glance at the clock on the wall. “Like, two minutes, but I gotta get these books in the system. Why?”

“Just go, do your job. I’ll be over in the psychology section.”

My hands tremble and a nervousness consumes me as I rush through my task. The instant the last book is catalogued, I clock out, unpin my nametag from my shirt, and yell to the store as a whole that I’m leaving. Kristalyn’s voice comes from the furthest corner of the store, acknowledging what I’ve said, and I take my chance to scurry away to find Harry.

He’s right where he said he’d be - sitting cross-legged on the floor with his elbow on his knee and fist resting under his chin. His long fingers carefully turn the pages of the textbook in his lap. I don’t want to interrupt him, he looks so peaceful and calm, but I also don’t relish the thought of sitting at my work for the next however long. I crouch next to him, card my fingers through his hair. His lashes flutter as his eyes close at the touch. When he looks up at me, there’s something in his eyes that I can’t read. It’s there then gone, and his face brightens.

“Ready?”

“Yes. Get me outta here.”

He laughs, and I stand, holding out a hand. I know I’m not much assistance, but he wraps his fingers around my hand and helpfully pretends that I make any bit of difference as he clambers to his feet. I raise a brow when he checks the cover of the textbook then searches the shelves for its placement. I’ve learnt well that he’s such a kind person, but it still takes me by surprise when he does something so considerate such as putting a book back where it belongs instead of leaving it wherever is closest.

I don’t even bother asking Harry where we’re headed as he pulls out of the parking lot. I trust him enough, especially after the amazing first date he planned, that I have no doubts that this one will be just as wonderful. So I settle into my seat and look at him. The sun is just low enough in the sky that it shines through the driver’s side window, illuminates his profile. I wonder again how I managed to get lucky enough in life to have this chance with him. Especially after practically winning the lottery with having Wil in my life.

The sound of Siri announcing a phone call interrupts the quiet of the car, and he quickly presses the accept button, mouthing _Sorry_ in my direction as the call connects.

“Hey there, sweetie. What are you up to?”

My brows draw together at the voice that comes through the speakers. It’s oddly familiar, though I can’t place it. Harry glances at me then grins before turning his attention back to the road.

“Hi. I am currently heading for a very important date at the moment.”

“Oh? Tell me more. What are they like?”

“She’s actually in the car right now.” The mischievous smirk on his face comes right as I recognise the speaker on the other end, and he catches my eye. “Say hi to Stevie, Jo.”

“Uh, hi?” I manage to croak out in a shaky voice, eyes wide.

The woman’s laugh is barely muffled as she apologises for interrupting. “I’ll let you two get to your date, but Harry, call me later, okay? Have fun, kids.”

Harry ends the call with a cheery “okay!”, and I gape at him. I’m not sure how long I’ll be in shock, but I have a feeling it’ll be a while, considering I just said hello to Stevie fucking Nicks.


	10. [t e n]

“So how come you live with your dad and uncle?”

I nearly choke on my mouthful of beer; Harry’s voice was unexpected, his question even more so. In the last five months of us being together, he’s never asked about the reasons behind me living with with my father and Henry. He smiles apologetically and pats at my back, and I manage to swallow down the drink. Coughing lightly, I take another sip then set the bottle on the table. I don’t speak immediately, trying to gather my thoughts in a way that won’t make me sound pathetic when I voice them.

The heat of the day still hasn’t fully disappeared, though the sun went down hours ago. The lights from the pool illuminate the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips and brows, and his green eyes, steady on me, seem to glow fluorescent in the glare. My smile falls flat - even I know that - but he doesn’t call me out on it. I draw in a steadying breath and tell him all about Dianne and her disappearing trick, the way she suddenly vanished from my life completely the second the divorce was finalised. It wasn’t like she was around much once she decided the marriage wasn’t working out, but there wasn’t anything keeping her in one place after the papers were signed.

Harry reaches for my hand, and our fingers lace together immediately. It isn’t but two seconds later that he tugs on me; I laugh softly and move from the lounger I’m on to curl up next to him on his. I lean my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes as I relax into the scent of his cologne. His lips are warm on my forehead. I’m just glad he doesn’t try to offer platitudes or pity about the fact that my mother abandoned our family years ago. It no longer bothers me - what bothers me most are the sympathetic looks I get whenever someone new finds out about Dianne’s departure.

I sigh softly, stare at the sky dotted with stars. It feels nice to be here with him. We haven’t been able to see each other much lately, and the date he took me on that day seems so far away, though it’s only been a week and a half since then. It had taken me fifteen solid minutes to be able to formulate a coherent sentence once he ended the call with Stevie Nicks, and I am still in awe that they know each other enough to have each other’s phone numbers.

We lie there together under the late-night sky, his heartbeat strong under my palm on his chest, and not for the first time, I wish this never ended. Not just the relationship, but the tranquillity and happiness he brings to my life, how content I am when I’m with him, the way he causes my heart to race and my blood to boil just with the looks he gives me or his soft kisses. There’s a sense of confusion under it all, however, one that keeps me up most nights as I struggle to figure it out. I let out a shuddering breath and turn my face into his shoulder. His arm tightens around me.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, because no matter how muddled my emotions feel right now, I am okay. I’m better than okay. “I’m all right.”

“Tired?”

I hesitate for just a moment then sigh. “A little. But I don’t wanna go home.”

“You - you can stay if you’d like.”

His voice is strained, somewhat shaky, and I pull back enough to look at him. He stares up at the sky, studiously avoids my gaze. I bite my lip, press the tip of my index finger to his chin, and nudge his face down so I can look into his eyes. His lips quirk up at the corners, though the smile is gone as quick as it appeared; I lean up to kiss him gently.

“Do you want me to?”

He nods after a few seconds. Something in my gut clenches with that simple movement, and I push myself to my feet, reach out my hand to him. His fingers wrap around mine as he stands, and I let him guide me into the house. The only areas of his home that I know are the living room, kitchen, and the first-floor bathroom, and tonight isn’t the time to make a fool of myself by going to the wrong room. He leaves me by the foot of the stairs, promising to be quick. The click of the lock on the front door sliding into place echoes in the otherwise silent house, then Harry is back by my side.

I nearly collapse in awe when the light comes on in what I’m assuming is his bedroom: The bed alone is a work of art. The posts of the frame are a deep mahogany, gauzy black curtains pulled back on the sides, and the mattress looks large enough to fit four people comfortably, five if they don’t mind touching. My toes itch to bury themselves into the thick rug that stretches out underneath the bed, from one side to the other with plenty of extra material to actually be useful. I can feel Harry’s gaze heavy on my face, and I turn to face him.

There’s something in his expression that I can’t read properly, but I assume it’s worry. Maybe he’s afraid that this is my end goal - to fuck him and leave him? It makes sense in a way, I suppose, considering any time I’ve attempted to move past kissing and cuddling, he’s stopped it. I glance down at his hand, link our fingers together. When I look back up at him, his head is tilted to the side in question.

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head with a soft smile, and though I want to argue it, want to make sure he knows exactly what I mean, I don’t. Instead, I press a kiss to the back of his hand and look at the bed. It beckons me to sprawl out and melt into it. Harry follows me to the bed and frowns when I stop at the end.

“Which side do you sleep on?” I ask at his unspoken inquiry, and he points to the one closest to him. “Cool. I sleep on my right side, so this means uninterrupted snuggles all night.”

“I might have something you can wear to sleep in.”

I shrug and stare down at the shorts and tank-top I’d come over in. “That, uh, might be good. Denim is awful to use as pyjamas.”

Once I’ve changed into a pair of soft, worn-in sweats - during which Harry turned his back like a true gentleman, even though he’s seen me in less whenever I go to the beach - I slide in between the sheets and sigh blissfully. They’re the right level of cold that I enjoy whenever I get into bed, and I burrow deeper into the smooth silkiness of the fabric. Harry chuckles quietly before the room is doused in darkness as he flips the switch; the bed dips when he climbs in beside me, immediately scooting over so that he can slip an arm under my neck. I shift closer, placing my head on his shoulder and my hand on his chest, and soon, the only sound in the room is our breathing.

Here, lying with him so close in the dark, there is nothing on my mind but him. The puzzling enigma that is my emotional state is nowhere to be found; all I feel right now is peace, the kind that I have fought for so long to find again. I exhale slowly and close my eyes. I know I promised my dad I was going into this with my eyes wide open, but being with Harry is intoxicating, and I crave more of his time, his attention, his everything whenever we’re apart. I haven’t felt like this for quite some time. I have honestly missed the all-consuming warmth that comes with falling in love.

The thought, surprisingly enough, doesn’t fill me with fear. Or maybe it’s because my mind is altered by Harry’s presence. I’m not entirely sure, so I do what sounds like the right choice: I dive headfirst into the sleep that awaits me.

I fumble for my phone as it lights up yet again. I’m grateful for turning off the vibrate function before coming over, but it’s almost three in the morning. No one should be texting me. The message slowly comes into focus as I stare at it with one eye closed, and I groan low in my throat and type back a message to my uncle, swearing that I’m fine but if he texts me again in the middle of the night, he won’t be able to use his fingers for a very long time. His response comes in the form of two emojis: a middle finger and a thumbs-up. I lock the screen again and flop back onto the bed.

Harry sleeps on next to me, his left arm stretched out toward me with the other curled tightly against his chest. I scratch at the skin below my bra strap, sighing when I realise I won’t be able to fall asleep again unless I use the bathroom. I grab my phone and tiptoe toward the door. Once I’m in the hallway, I turn the flashlight mode on and make my way on silent footsteps down the corridor, checking each room that I pass. I finally locate the room I need and duck inside.

“You didn’t have to go hunting for a toilet,” Harry mumbles sleepily when I return, and I barely manage to bite back a squeak of surprise at the unexpectedness of hearing his voice. He gestures vaguely to one of the doors on the far side of the room. “I have one right there.”

“Well, I didn’t know that.”

“Sorry, love, should’ve told you.”

“Go back to sleep, sweetie, it’s not even three yet.”

“Was waiting for you to get back.”

“I’m here now. Sleep.”

I wonder if he was sleep-talking when not even a minute later, he’s snoring softly again. Rolling my eyes, I curl up against him and relax into the warmth and scent I’ve come to love. Love. The word bounces around in my brain, echoing deafeningly, and I wonder if it’s too soon in the relationship to feel like this. If it’s too soon after Wil. Thinking of Wil brings the question of how he would feel about my dating Harry, if he would approve, if I would still be just as happy with Wil years down the road as I was in the beginning. As I am with Harry.

I blink back tears and force the thoughts away. It isn’t worth dwelling over, I remind myself. Wil is dead, and he’s never coming back. Sure, it’s unfair, he shouldn’t have died so young, but he did. He died and left me scrambling to pick up the pieces of my heart without him. Blowing out a shaky breath, I try to focus on the contentedness I felt not even ten minutes ago, but everything leads right back to Wil. I stifle a broken sob, rolling to face away from Harry. How can I look at him right now, when I’m in his bed and thinking of another man that I loved? He’s been so wonderful, and it isn’t right or fair to him. Disgust and guilt swirl around in violent circles in my gut, stretching their icy fingers to eat at every molecule in my body, and I hate myself more in this moment than I ever have before.


	11. [e l e v e n]

Waking up next to Harry is an odd experience. I’ve long grown accustomed to soft fur or the cold, empty other half of my mattress, so for my fingers to brush against sleep-warm skin when I stretch, it catches me off guard for a second. I nearly panic until my brain reboots itself, catches up to the reality of the situation, and immediately, all of the flight-or-flight instinct drains from me. I turn my head to see Harry curled up on his side, still fast asleep. His hair has fallen over his face, and a small frown tugs at the corners of his lips. I gingerly roll to face him and press a fingertip softly to the divot between his brows. The skin smooths out, and he exhales in a shuddering gust.

A buzzing noise comes from behind me, and I realise it must be after seven if the Do Not Disturb mode turned off. Harry evidently hears the sound, too, because he stirs, buries his face against the pillow with a groan. I stifle a giggle and roll over to silence the call. I sigh when I see my dad’s name on the screen. Double-checking that Harry hasn’t woken up, I slip out of the bed and press the accept button as I hurry through the door.

“You _do_ realise it is far too early to be calling me, right? Especially when your brother woke me up at two-thirty this morning to make sure I hadn’t died.”

“Morning to you, too, Jo. Just wanted to see if you work today.”

“Uh, yeah, I have the eleven-to-three shift. Why?” When my dad doesn’t respond immediately, I pause mid-step on the staircase. “Dad… are you trying to check up on me because I spent the night with my boyfriend?”

“It might be a possibility,” he finally admits.

“Well, I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m running on less than four hours of sleep. And besides, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

“I still worry about you, kid.”

“I know, Dad. I worry about you, too. With that, I’m going to find some coffee in this place, or I’ll cry. I love you, and I’ll be home after work.”

“Love you, too, starlight.”

I hang up and shuffle into the kitchen. My mind is lagging enough that I don’t question the fact that there’s already coffee in the pot; I just search through the cupboards for a mug and pour myself some. I normally prefer my coffee with a dash of cream and sweetener, but I don’t want to rummage around in Harry’s house. So I take a sip of my drink, cross the room to stand by the patio doors, and stare out over the backyard. A pink-orange glow covers everything as the sun rises, and I breathe in deeply.

Exhaustion clings to every molecule in my body, wars with the peacefulness that the quiet morning brings to me. I swallow another mouthful of coffee and close my eyes. It was… nice, if I’m honest, to not wake up alone this morning. Having another body next to mine had been startling, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It gave me the same sense of comfort and security that Wil had. I shift uneasily, suddenly terrified at the realisation. Everything about this relationship with Harry has been fantastic - far better than I ever could have imagined any relationship being after what I had with Wil - but I can’t help but fear that I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve anything that Harry has given me.

I clear my throat quietly, squeezing my eyes more tightly closed against the burning sensation behind the lids. Sniffling, I turn away from the doors and sit at the table. I hate feeling so conflicted, when I’ve been nothing but happy with Harry; I sigh and run a finger under my eyes, dampness coating my fingertip. _Shut up_, I order the small voice in my brain that is telling me to run away. I don’t want to ruin what Harry and I have.

“Oh. Good morning.”

I turn my head to look at the man who’s walked into the kitchen; his dark hair is wet, and a towel hangs over his shoulder. “Hi.”

“You must be… Joey, right?”

“That’s me.”

“Hi. I’m Mitch. Nice to meet you.”

His hand is warm and solid in mine as we shake, and I force a smile, turning my gaze back to the coffee in my mug. His footsteps are loud in the silence of the kitchen, and I twitch at the soft clink of porcelain against marble. He whistles quietly as he moves about. The uncomfortable clenching in my gut grows to a level I can no longer ignore after a few minutes, so I grab up my coffee and phone, tell Mitch it’s been a pleasure meeting him, and head to the stairs.

Harry has sprawled out across the bed in my absence, and the sight makes me smile through the swirling emotions that I’ve been fighting. I stand there watching him for a long moment then make my way to the bed. Setting the mug on the nightstand, I slide in between the sheets and lay on my side, staring at his relaxed face. His hair curls slightly over his face, and I push it back gently. His eyelashes flutter, he draws in a quick breath, and finally, he lets out a soft sound before his eyes slowly open. The green is dark with his sleep, and my heart swells at the sight. I shift forward until I can press a kiss to his cheek.

“Morning.”

“Mornin’. How long have you been awake?”

I ignore the fluttering in my chest, dragging the tip of my finger across the sharp plane of his cheek. “Only for a little bit. How did you sleep?”

“Really great, actually.”

He exhales sharply, rolls from his belly to his back, and I let him drag me into his side. All the thoughts that have been circulating around in my brain flee with the contact, and I selfishly allow the scent and warmth of him to comfort me. I rest my head on his chest and sigh, his heartbeat lulling me deeper into peace.

“You know what I just realised?” At his responsive _hmm?_, I lift my head and meet his eye. “We literally have no pictures together.”

“Well, if you count paparazzi photos, we do.”

“I don’t count those, so we don’t.”

Harry stretches to grab his phone, and I roll my eyes affectionately as his finger swipes across the screen. He nudges me gently, and I settle back into his side. My lips automatically curl into a smile when he raises the phone, the front-facing camera already up and tracking our faces. I wait until his thumb moves to tap the button, then wiggle my fingers over his side. His laughter is music to my ears, and I let myself fall a little further.

**... ... ... ... ... ...**

The beach is empty save for us, and all I can hear is the sound of waves rolling against the shore. Warmth clings to the air, wraps itself around us, though it’s nearing midnight and the sun set hours ago; clouds encroach on the brim of the horizon, the edges hazy from the distance, a far-off storm threatening to come through. I doubt we will see a drop of rain. The stars overhead shine so far above us yet so brightly that I feel I can reach out and pluck them from the sky. I turn my head and stare unashamedly at Harry lying shirtless next to me on the enormous towel. The moonlight paints his skin a soft, milky colour, and the deep black of his tattoos stand out in stark contrast. He catches me looking at him, smiles that crooked grin, and pushes himself to rest on one elbow. His finger drags along my hip, and I shiver as goosebumps burst into existence. He leans over me, blocking my view of the sky, and his soft smile disappears when he ducks down to kiss me.

Every kiss before this has been soft, tender, gentle, but this isn’t the case now. Now, it’s demanding and dominating, intoxicating and overwhelming. My arms come up to wrap around his torso, and he obliges when I tug him closer. He tastes like coffee and mint, every brush of his tongue against mine a promise of something I can’t put a name to. I gasp into his mouth when his fingertips press firmly into my waist; a small part of me hopes he leaves bruises, _wants_ the reminder of his touch on me. Tears prickle at the corner of my eyes as my skin heats up. I curve my fingers against his back, nails digging into his skin, and I steal the guttural moan from his lips. He shifts, his body blankets mine. There’s nothing on my mind but this, right here.

Harry’s hand trembles as it skims along my side, thumb slipping beneath the band of my corset-bikini top. Doubt struggles to seep through me, but I ignore it, move my hand to untie the string on my top. He pulls back slowly, and I try to catch my breath as his gaze travels from my face down my body. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly; his eyes darken, and I don’t get the chance to say anything before he’s kissing me again, a bruising kiss that sends my head swimming. His fingers slip beneath the band of my bottoms, sliding across my skin, even as my heart skips a beat.

“Were you planning on this?” I whisper when he reaches toward my purse; I vaguely remember him slipping something inside of it when we first arrived. Now I know what it is, the wrapper reflecting the moonlight.

“I…” He bites his lip, stares between the condom and me with a sheepish grin. “Not necessarily planning, but hoping.”

“Good.”

His expression smooths out, and he huffs out a laugh and presses a kiss to the tip of my nose before ducking down to suck a bruise into the sensitive skin of my throat. His free hand pushes the fabric of my top to the side; heat rips through me at the fire in his eyes as he stares down at my exposed body. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

My skin heats with his reverence, and my hands tremble as I push gently at his shoulders. He lies back and watches me pull my bikini bottoms off, allows me to tug at the waistband of his trunks until they slide down his thighs. His bitten-back groan echoes in the silence when I roll the condom onto his length, and I move to straddle him. Leaning down to kiss him gently, I align our bodies and slowly lower myself, and I shake with the sensation of being filled, so torturously slow that I feel I might actually die. My eyes fall closed as I’m overwhelmed by the emotions that crash over me just as surely as the waves of the ocean against the shore behind me. I rest my forehead against Harry’s, the scent of mint and tea ghosting over my face.

“Open your eyes, love,” he murmurs, lips twitching when I do as he says immediately. “You are so beautiful.”

My words abruptly die out as he shifts, hips pushing upwards, and I gasp aloud and instinctively push down to meet his thrust. His gaze never leaves my face, his hands come up to cling tightly to my hips, and I bury my fingers in his hair, hold him still as I press a searing kiss to his lips. It quickly becomes less of a kiss and more of sharing oxygen while I move, neither of us able to focus on more than what we’re feeling. My skin feels far too small for everything that consumes me, the desire and peace and love that nearly drown me. The desperate need flows through my veins as naturally as my blood, my pulse races, my breath hitches with each thrust. I cry out, exploding into a million sparks to join the stars in the sky, and I lose track of where I end and he begins. Nothing else matters, nothing else remains but us and the undeniable truth that I’m utterly in love with this man.


	12. [t w e l v e]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, we have about 8 more chapters before this story is wrapped up. i’m planning on writing some bonus scenes from this story that didn’t make it into the main story, so you’ll have that to look forward to!

“That was an awful idea,” I grumble as I shake sand from my bikini bottoms, yanking them up my legs. “Seriously, sand is where sand should _not_ be.”

Harry laughs quietly, reaches for my hand. I let him tug me toward the ocean, and we come to a stop once the water reaches my belly. The tide crashes against us, and I wrap my arms around him, stretching up on my tiptoes to kiss him. He smiles against my lips; I get less than a second to question it, then we’re falling sideways, going under the surface. I somehow manage not to inhale the saltwater as I wiggle to get my feet back under me.

“That was mean,” I tell him after I’ve found my footing, pushing my hair from my face, and he grins. “I mean, really, who does that?”

“I do. At least now there isn’t sand where sand shouldn’t be, right?”

“God, you’re so lucky you’re cute.”

His fingers lace with mine, and it should be awkward, I should feel uncomfortable with the fact that we’re doing nothing but standing waist-deep in the ocean and staring at each other. The uneasiness doesn’t come, though. Instead, my heart beats steadily beneath my sternum, each thump reminding me that I love this man. Fear bleeds along the edges of the security, tainting the brilliance with its hazy darkness. Harry pulls me closer; I rest my head against his chest and let out a relaxed, blissful smile.

Something inside of me has settled with the evening. I hadn’t expected that Harry would want to have sex - make love, rather - tonight, and especially not in such a public space. Yes, we’ve been alone since we arrived, but we aren’t the only ones who ever decide to enjoy the quiet of an empty beach at midnight. It isn’t a surprise that I feel so strongly for him. He has made it impossible from the beginning to not fall in love, and though I’ve tried to fight the feelings, I am incredibly glad that I have failed.

I pull away just enough to gaze up at him. There’s an expression on his face that I can’t read, but it doesn’t fill me with apprehension or fear. A heady kind of love and the sensation of being home erupt inside of me, and I can’t stop myself - I bury my fingers in his hair, tug his head down so I can capture his mouth with mine. He lets out a startled sound but kisses back with enthusiasm. I hope, almost desperately, that he can understand what I’m trying to tell him.

We eventually wade back to the shore, and I shiver as I tug my shorts up my legs. Harry reaches for my hand, guides me to the car once we’ve gathered up our belongings. I stifle my giggle when he tosses the used condom into the rubbish bin at the edge of the car park. I pass my keys over to him and settle into the passenger seat, and he presses a kiss to my knuckles before dropping my hand and starting the car. We don’t speak to each other as he drives toward his house; we don’t need to, we just let the comfortable silence and music we sing along to say what we want to say.

“I’m almost surprised that my key still works,” I announce as I walk through the front door a couple of weeks later, and my father snorts from where he’s watching television.

“I’m almost surprised you’re even here.”

“I missed my dad, what can I say.”

He shakes his head but lets me kiss his forehead. I drop my bag onto the coffee-table and plop down next to him, settle into the couch. He has a point - I have to admit that over the last few weeks, I’ve barely seen the inside of my own home. My time has been split between work, classes now that they’ve started up again, and Harry. More often than not, I spend the night with him. It seems that our beach-time escapades have opened the door, and now, he’s become a drug I can’t quit, craving his touch and taste constantly, fiercely.

“How was work?”

I let out a groan and tell him about my day, conveniently leaving out the fact that Harry met me for lunch and sent me to my next class much more dishevelled and satisfied. Dennis listens carefully as I whine about my professor’s personality and teaching methods. Seriously, he makes Professor Binns from the Harry Potter novels seem lively in comparison. It isn’t until I’ve vented everything that my dad asks me how my relationship with Harry has been going.

“Obviously, it’s steady, since I haven’t seen you in so long that I actually forgot what my daughter looked like.” He huffs out a laugh when I smack without malice at his knee. “I’m glad to see you happy, starlight.”

“I _am_ happy.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you… do you think that I’m going too fast with Harry?”

“I don’t want to hear about your sex life. Bad enough those damn photos are everywhere on the internet.”

I wince at the mention of the grainy, badly-shot pictures that some fan on Twitter posted before Harry and I had even left the beach that night - our faces weren’t clear, and no one can actually see anything, but the caption she’d posted had been incriminating enough: _Just saw Harry Styles and his gf on the beach!! I wanna say hi but they’re ~*busy*~_. At least she’d had the decency to not come up to us, instead going on her way. It’s awkward enough having the photos even exist; I don’t think I could have handled seeing her at that moment. Sighing, I turn my attention back to the conversation.

“Not sexually, Dad, fucking hell. I meant, like, emotionally.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he responds after a long minute of thinking. “I think this is something you gotta figure out on your own.”

“I keep wondering if Wil would approve of Harry. I keep comparing the two. How fucked up is that?”

My dad shrugs awkwardly but doesn’t respond. I exhale heavily, shifting around on the couch until I’m more comfortable, and decide this isn’t something I want to think about. Not today. Not ever, really. My thoughts still race in my head even as I force myself to focus on Patrick Swayze kicking ass in _Road House_.

  
**Unc says:** You going to be home tonight?  


I come to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, staring down at my uncle’s text; someone shoves into my shoulder, growling out a “Watch it”, and I roll my eyes. Before I can respond to Henry, my phone vibrates with a text from Harry. I switch threads and bite my lip when I see he’s asked me to come over. I quickly type out _The forecast calls for a very low chance of me being home tonight_ then tell Harry I’ll be at his right after class.

  
**Unc says:** Your dad misses you. And I’m tired of being the one who takes care of your fat cat.  
  
**Joey says:** I promise I’ll stay home every night this week if you stop bitching  
  
**Unc says:** You’re my only niece and yet you’re still not my favorite  
  
**Joey says:** Words hurt, asshole  


I know I’m asking a lot of my uncle to feed and clean up after my cat every day, especially since I have basically shunned that responsibility all for a _guy_, and I really do feel awful about it. But being with Harry has consumed me completely, I feel him in my blood, his touch like branding irons that burn me to the core. I open the message thread with Harry.

  
**Joey says:** Fucking shoot me in the foot or something, I don’t wanna go to class…  
  
**Harry says:** Get your education, love. I’ll be here when you get out.  


Excitement pulses through me, causes my hands to shake and my heart to race. The nightmare that is LA traffic doesn’t even bother me as I drive to Harry’s house; I’m too focused on the thought of being close enough to kiss him. To keep my mind off of what the rest of the evening might hold, I reach over and crank the volume on the radio. _Little Lies_ does nothing to calm me down, but I sing along to it at the top of my voice anyway. Might as well go for a penny if I’m in for a pound.

I let myself into the house the way I’ve done every time he invited me over, calling out for Harry. His voice comes from further into the house, and I slide my flip-flops off my feet and pad quietly through the hall until I reach the back door. I can’t help it - I stare unabashedly at the expanse of bare skin, the muscles that ripple with his movements as he swims. He catches sight of me standing there, and I wiggle my fingers at him once he comes to the edge of the pool, holding himself up with his arms on the ledge.

“Come on in. The water’s nice.”

I shake my head with a smile. “I don’t have a bathing suit here.”

“Who says you need one?”

My pulse roars in my ears even as I double-check that no one is looking, then I strip off my top. He lets out a soft whistle, laughing when I roll my eyes. I slip my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts, inch them down slowly, and his eyes darken as he watches me. Dropping my bra to the pile of clothes, I step off the edge and drop to the bottom of the pool.

Harry is right there when I come back up, fingers pressing into my skin, and he tugs me closer. Our legs entangle with each other, and though we start to sink below the surface, he doesn’t stop kissing me. There’s something different in the kiss, but the desire that flares up in me drowns out the small voice trying to puzzle it out.

We scramble out of the pool not even three minutes later, and his hand wraps around mine, tugs me toward the house. We don’t get further than the hallway before he rounds on me, pinning me between the wall and his body; I can’t read the emotions in his eyes, I can’t even fathom to try, so I let myself drown in the kiss. The heat that comes from his body is incomparable to what I’m feeling inside, and my hands come up to bury in his hair. His heart races in his chest, but mine is no better - there’s something almost poetic about it, I think idly as my thigh settles between his.

“Fuck,” he hisses when I drag my lips across the column of his throat, nip at the skin where his jaw meets his neck. “Wait, Jo, we… we need to talk.”

“Now? Can’t it wait?”

“I don’t think it can.”

Reluctantly, I press a kiss to the red mark I’ve left on his skin and pull back. The easy grin he’s worn since I showed up is gone, replaced by a seriousness that I only see when his mind is elsewhere - usually on his work or when he’s speaking of his family. I sigh, gesturing toward the living room. He murmurs for me to go on, he’ll be right back.

He does as he says, my clothes in one hand and a large towel in the other. My brows furrow at the sight. If he’s expecting me to want to get dressed, this conversation will most likely not end up in his bed. I avoid his gaze as I dry off quickly, tugging my shorts and top on without bothering with my underwear. I sit on the couch once I’m done; my throat tightens when he sits at the other end.

“What’s going on?”

He sighs, runs a hand through his wet hair. When he looks at me, his expression is stained with something I don’t think I want to understand. “I… god, I didn’t think this would be so hard to say.” He lets out a humourless laugh, scrubbing at his face, before ducking his head. “Jo…”

“Just tell me,” I whisper, but I’m sure I don’t want to know.

“I’ve been doing some thinking, and I, I’m moving back to London.”

The silence echoes in the house, deafening in its existence, but over it, I can hear the sound of my heart breaking. My mouth moves, though no words come out. Harry hesitates then reaches for my hand; his face falls when I yank it back. I can’t look at him, it hurts too much, so I force myself to stare at the floor, the window just beyond his head, anywhere but the green eyes that say too much.


	13. [t h i r t e e n]

Harry’s words echo in my brain, and a numbing sort of pain spreads through me, freezing me from the core. My lungs scream, demand oxygen, and I manage to drag in a rattling breath. Harry reaches for me again; I don’t have the energy or presence of mind to fight him off, but the sight of him tears my heart to shreds, so I tuck my head between my knees and try to focus on anything except the way my world has suddenly flipped upside down.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Jo.” His hand is hot through the fabric of my shirt, rubs circles into my skin. “I just - LA isn’t what I need or want any more.”

_What about me - am I what you want or need any more?_ The words don’t come. We sit there in silence, interrupted only by the shakiness of my breathing. My stomach churns violently, bile rising in my throat; I swallow thickly and turn my head to stare at the wall past him.

“Wh-when are you leaving?”

He sighs. “At the end of the week.”

“And… and you just told me now?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“So you waited - how long have you known?” His hesitation is answer enough. I jerk away from his touch. The comfort it offered is gone now, nothing but a betrayal. His green eyes are dark with something I can’t read when I meet his gaze. “Harry Styles, how long have you known you were leaving?”

“About a month,” he whispers; his lips barely move.

I shove myself to my feet to stand in front of him. My hands clench into tight fists at my side, tremble with the sudden rage that crashes over me. “Are you fucking serious. You’ve known for a month that you were moving, and you didn’t bother ever bringing it up in any of our conversations? Didn’t give me a heads up? Didn’t think to even talk to me about it? Wow, that’s… that’s fucking shitty of you.”

“I’m sorry,” he spits out, tone venomous, and thank god, finally he’s giving me something other than that pitying look and patronising voice. “I didn’t realise I needed your _permission_.”

“It isn’t that you didn’t get my goddamn permission, Harry! It’s the fact that you never fucking told me. You let - fuck, you let me fall for you knowing you would be leaving me, knowing that I’ve already had to deal with the loss of one man that I love and I’d have to do it again once you walked away. _That_ is what I have a problem with. So you can fuck right off.”

I storm out of the room, not bothering to grab my flip-flops from the entry hall on my way out the door. Harry calls after me, but my anger propels me forward. He appears in the doorway as I buckle up my seatbelt, starts down the walk. I shake my head and shove my car into gear, pulling out of the driveway much faster than I should have. His reflection fades from the rear-view.

Tears blur my vision, and there’s a roaring in my ears that does nothing to drown out the thoughts that are circling viciously around my brain. A soft creaking noise alerts me to just how tightly I’m gripping the steering wheel, but I can’t relax my grip. Without thinking, I slam my foot on the accelerator, swerve around the car that was in front of me, and take the nearest exit. The brakes squeal when I stomp on the pedal, clouds of dust billowing around the car as it jerks to a stop. I can see the man at the fuel pump across the parking lot staring at me when I let out my emotions on a scream, my palm hitting the dashboard until my hand throbs with the pain that doesn’t come close to what I feel inside. A sob tears itself through me; I rest my forehead against the steering wheel and let myself lose control just for a minute.

My anger, the heartbreak, hasn’t subsided by the time I come to a rough stop in front of my house. I barely remember to grab my bag and purse from the passenger seat before I slide shakily from the driver’s seat. Minute tremors rack my body as I slam the door and press the lock button on the key-fob, and my knees threaten to give out from under me.

“What the Hell?” Henry asks when I storm into the house. “Jo Beth? What happened?”

“Guys are fucking dumb, and I have no goddamn idea as to how you live with yourselves.”

“Joey -”

My bedroom door closes with an echoing bang, and I fumble with the lock a few times before finally managing to get it in place. Henry’s voice comes from right outside in the hall, but I ignore him, pace around my room. My hands bury into my hair, tugging at the strands until sharp pains erupt all over my scalp, and Tubs growls low in his throat then chirps; I’m only seventy-five percent sure it’s my imagination that the noise is as full of curiosity as it sounds.

****

... ... ...

I stare after Joey’s car long after it disappears from sight. I’d known she would be hurt by my decision to move - Hell, _I’m_ hurt by my decision - but the entire conversation went a lot worse than I anticipated. An errant thought passes through my mind, a flyaway gratefulness that I hadn’t let my body override my senses before we talked. She isn’t going to see it the same way, though. I know she isn’t.

  
**Mitch says:** How did it go?  


I stare down at Mitch’s text for a long minute then respond the only way I can:

  
**Harry says:** Everything is fucked up now.  
  
**Mitch says:** You gonna be ok?  
  
**Harry says:** I have no idea  


Time seems to crawl, and I keep replaying the scene in my head. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry with her; she was hurt, lashing out, and I understand that. But at the moment, it seemed the right choice to strike back at her. The venom of the words I said still lingers on my tongue. Shoving a hand through my hair, I make my way to the living room, ignore the black strappy sandals by the door, and fall onto the couch with little grace.

Her underwear still sits on the arm of the couch, bright beacons in an otherwise gloomy haze that has settled over the room since she walked out. I stare at the spots of yellow, pick at the varnish on my nails. A small voice tells me that this isn’t something she and I can easily come back from, and my heart clenches at the thought.

Seconds stretch into minutes into hours, but I don’t move. My thoughts race around each other - should I stay here, let her calm down, and then we can talk? Or should I go after her and convince her to hear me out? I know I have the option of asking Mitch or Stevie or, hell, even Niall or Louis, but… telling Mitch that the conversation hadn’t gone well had been uncomfortable enough of an admission. I don’t know if I can handle having to ask for advice about this or dealing with their reactions.

“I think you need to leave.”

My heart pounds out a painful beat against my ribs, but I don’t let my gaze stray from Joey’s father’s face. “I need to talk to Joey.”

“She’ll contact you if she wants to. So go.” The man doesn’t say more, arms crossed over his chest - _Dennis_, my brain whispers, reminding me of his name from the hundreds of times I’ve talked to Joey.

“I don’t want to, and I won’t until I get the chance to apologise, to talk to her.”

Another man comes up behind Joey’s father; when they stand next to each other, it’s easy to tell they’re brothers. Henry gives me an uncomfortably long, appraising look then turns to Dennis.

“C’mon, let the boy talk to Jo. Besides, she might still punch him for whatever he did, and that’d be one helluva show.”

Dennis’s smile holds no humour as I gulp audibly, and Henry turns and calls for Joey. I can’t hear what she says back, but her uncle refuses to let her ignore him, yelling her name louder and louder. Finally, she rounds the corner and stumbles to an abrupt stop. Her father has no chance of getting out of the way before she’s shoving past him and shutting the door in my face. I raise a hand to knock; it’s unnecessary, since Henry pulls the door open again. This process repeats three more times before Henry puts himself in front of the door, prevents her from being able to close it without forcing him out of the way. I have never seen so much hurt, betrayal, anger in her blue-green eyes in all the months I’ve known her. To be on the receiving end - to be the cause… it kills me.

My lips quirk upwards, but I know the smile falls flat. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I shift my weight between my feet. “I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

****

... ... ...

I stare at Harry, my heart beating a painful rhythm against my ribs. Rage exploded the instant I saw him in the doorway, and my uncle’s actions did nothing to quell the flames of anger that lick at my nerves, drown my sight in a red tint. A voice whispers cruelly to walk away, to push my way past him and run until the world disappears, but a smaller part of me yearns for his touch and the love I feel whenever he’s around. Against my better judgment, I step back and turn on my heel. My dad frowns at me, and I shake my head in response; he grumbles but doesn’t stop Harry from hesitantly crossing the threshold into the house.

“Door stays open,” my father orders once I’ve led Harry to my bedroom.

I poke my head into the hallway to glare at him then pointedly shut the door. It has never once been a rule in the house, and it’s not one I’m willing to follow right now. I turn back to see Harry sitting gingerly on the end of my bed, his fingers brushing through Tubs’s fur. I cross my arms over my chest, lean against the wood behind me. Neither of us speak for a long moment, and the turmoil in my gut won’t settle. I exhale sharply.

“This is you making it quick?”

Harry jolts in surprise, and Tubs lets out a small growl of displeasure at the disruption of attention. Harry apologises to the cat quietly, resuming the petting, and finally meets my eye. “I’m sorry. Yes, I have known about the move for a while. I know I should have told you long before now, and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I just... Jo, you have to believe me. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to put an end date on what we have.”

“Bullshit,” I snap, and though his expression darkens, I don’t falter. “You just didn’t want me to _know_ the end date.”

“Don’t twist my words around, Joey.”

“Then stop fucking lying to me. You didn’t want me to know that what we had had a ‘best by’ and we’ve passed it.”

“But the more I think about it,” he says over my words, and I throw my hands into the air, “the more I think… who says there even has to be an end date?”

I snort, shake my head. “Long-distance relationships don’t work, Harry. Sure, they sound super-romantic, like, ‘Oh, look at how long we’ve been together even though we’re x miles apart! Our love must be so true!’ But in reality? Someone gets bored with the distance, the lack of being physically together, and they step out. They can hide it as much as they want - I mean, seriously who’s gonna find out? Their partner isn’t there! But it happens.” His eyes watch me closely as I cross the room, and I plop down onto the head of my bed. Tubs chirps and abandons Harry. “I don’t want that. I don’t think… no. I _know_ I can’t handle that.”

The silence is deafening. Harry draws in a rattling breath after a long moment. “So… this is it, then?”

“I guess it is,” I reply softly through numb lips, ignoring the way my heart shatters in my chest.

He stares at me for a long minute. It takes all of my willpower to not take back my words. I meant them, so I have to stick by them, no matter how much it pains me to do so. To my surprise, he surges forward, hands shaking as they cradle my face, and his kiss is hard and graceless and searching and speaking volumes in a language I’m not sure I understand. My eyes burn with the tears, but I swallow the anguish and kiss him back. If this is goodbye, I might as well make it count. I might as well take what he’ll give me one last time.


	14. [f o u r t e e n]

We dress in silence. My fingers tremble as I button and zip my shorts. I avoid looking at Harry - if I do, I will undoubtedly cry. Or, even worse, I’m liable to beg him to forget what I said. Once he finishes pulling his shirt on, he rounds my bed to stand at my side. His breath ghosts across my face, and I close my eyes at the tender kiss he presses to my temple, the final goodbye. I don’t turn around at the sound of my door opening or closing with a soft _snick_.

Tubs glares at me from inside his cat tower, yellow eyes narrowed with his annoyance at being kicked off the bed, but I can’t find it in me to care much. Not with the remnants of Harry’s touch and taste still flooding my senses, not with the tears that slip from the corner of my eyes. I fall face-first onto the mattress and stop trying to fight the maelstrom inside; I let it take over me, rip through me like a hurricane and destroy the foundation of who I am.

I know logically, I’m right. There is just so much about a long-distance relationship that I am certain I can’t handle, and as much as I trust him, I can’t put myself at risk to be hurt like that. But ending our relationship is the hardest thing I’ve done since the day I put Wil to rest. The expression on Harry’s face as I confirmed we were through is seared into the back of my eyes, and a tightness takes hold of my lungs, squeezing out the air until I’m gasping and choking on nothing.

Thankfully, my dad and uncle leave me alone after Harry’s left. I can hear them talking in the living room, but they don’t come to my room, and I’m grateful for that. Someone’s footsteps stop outside my door once the sun has gone down, and I absentmindedly wonder, under all the numbness and confusion, which of them it is. I almost expect them to try to open the door. They don’t.

The moon rises into the sky outside my window, its silvery glow bathing my bedroom. My cat curls up against my chest, purrs and nudges my chin with his nose; I bury my fingers into his fur without thinking and let him comfort me. Shadows stretch and morph with the time that passes, and I find myself still awake long after the clock reads midnight. I know I’m not going to sleep tonight, so I grab my phone, send a text into the group chat with my dad and Henry letting them know I’m going for a drive, and push myself to my feet.

The beach where Harry and I have spent many a night spreads out before me, miles of sand painted milky white to either side of me meeting the undulating ocean ahead. I make my way to just out of reach of the water, sitting down with my legs crossed, and stare out over the waves. Now that I’m under the great expanse of the dark sky, everything that I’ve struggled with seems so small, so unimportant; the stars overhead remind me that I am but a speck in the universe, one that I will never be able to wrap my mind around. My thoughts turn from existentialism and questioning my existence to questioning whether I made the right choice.

Harry has made me so incredibly happy over the last six and a half months, and that joy, the thrill of being in love again, is something I never thought I’d have after I lost Wil. He and I hadn’t ever had that conversation, the one in which we discussed our hopes for the other in case something happened to us, but I’m sure he would have wanted me to move on and find someone who loved me. I hate that I can’t talk to him, ask him what I should do.

I sigh, dig my fingers into the sand. A cool breeze rushes past, and my skin prickles with goosebumps. The moon and stars offer no comfort, cold in their positions in space, just shining down on the world without judgement or advice. Waves crash against the shore, the sound rhythmic and calming, and eventually, the thrumming of the water lulls me into a state of mind where I feel nothing can touch me. Thoughts float one after another through my brain, until one slams to the forefront, lights up like a neon sign.

I hurry to my feet, falling on my face when I forget to uncross my legs first. I don’t bother brushing the sand off of me as I run to the car park. There is a surprisingly little amount of traffic on the road, even with the late hour, but I barely acknowledge it. Panic and desperation course through me, and the music that plays does little to make me feel any better. I can only hope I’m not too late. I need him to know.

“What do you want?”

I stare wide-eyed at the woman who answers the door. I’ve not met her in person, but I have seen enough photos of her to recognise her as Harry’s sister. “Uh, I… I need to talk to Harry.”

“Why?”

“I -”

“Gem, I’ve got this.” My heart aches at the sound of Harry’s voice and his footsteps nearing the door. Gemma’s face screws up in disgust, and she turns pointedly away from me. Harry watches her go then sighs, focusing on me. He sounds utterly exhausted when he speaks. “Joey, what are you doing here?”

“I’m scared,” I finally choke out after a long, uncomfortable silence, and his brows furrow. “I’m scared because I haven’t felt like this in so long. Literally years. I’ve run from every chance at a relationship because I’m terrified of feeling something like this for someone else. I loved Wil with everything I had, and he left, and I was alone and broken and so goddamn scared. And, and I never got past that fear. Because - I don’t want to love someone else the way I did Wil only to have to lose you like I lost him.”

My breath comes out in a shuddering gasp, and my chest and throat ache so fiercely. My voice cracks with emotion, but I push on, unable to stop even in the face of Harry’s unresponsiveness. “I don’t want to have to deal with that pain. That god-awful hollowness that leaves you so cold and empty, and it doesn’t go away no matter what you do. Harry, I don’t want to love you as much as I do. Don’t you get it? It hurts. It fucking _hurts_ that I need you in my life this bad. It tears me up to know that I love you so fucking much that I’d follow you to- to Pluto for god’s sake if you asked me to. It’s the worst feeling in the world to love someone with all of your heart and soul, when you know it’s going to end in pain. It always does.” I swallow thickly, brush a hand over my cheek. “And I... I can’t survive being shattered like that again. Not even for you. I’m _scared_.”

Harry stares at me, his gaze heavy and intense, and I fidget under the weight. Before I can turn away, he reaches for me; I let him pull me into his arms, and he holds me tightly against his chest as I shake apart in the safety he provides. His lips are soft against my hair, and my fingers clench into the back of his T-shirt as I cling to him. He doesn’t let go of me even after I’ve calmed down. Instead, he steps backwards, holding me steady while we cross the threshold into the house. He leads me with gentle hands up the stairs and down a dark hall, into a bedroom.

My body goes limp as soon as I lie down, the storm of emotions leaving me exhausted and worn down. His fingers card through my hair, and I stare up at him through half-closed eyes. There’s something on his face that I can’t read. Guilt snakes through me, just another thing to twist me inside out. I should never have come here. Not after what I did. It isn’t enough to stop the words from spilling out of my mouth, slurred and rough around the edges.

“Will you stay?”

He hesitates but then crawls onto the bed, stretching out behind me. His hand stops me when I try to roll over to face him; I exhale shakily but don’t try to push. A small flicker of warmth sparks to life as I scoot closer to him and he doesn’t try to prevent it. Instead, his arm slowly drapes over my waist. I can feel his heartbeat against my shoulders, steady and achingly familiar. I close my eyes at the fear that shoots through me as I lace my fingers with his. Harry doesn’t squeeze back like he normally does. He also doesn’t pull away, so I take the victory while I can.

The morning comes too soon, and I groan, burying my face into the pillow that smells like sunshine and mountain air. It hits a second later - I’m alone in the bed. My hand stretches out only to be met with the stretch of cold sheets. Harry’s gone, has been for a while. I scrub a hand over my face and sit up, staring around the room. There is nothing to indicate how long I’ve been left on my own. I ignore the way my chest tightens at the fact that he left me.

Realising I can’t just hide away in the guest room for the rest of my life, I reluctantly push myself out of the bed and pad across the room. The house is quiet as I make my way down the hallway, the stairs; all I can hear is my own breathing and my footsteps on the hardwood floors. Bile rises in my throat when an errant thought crosses my mind - what if Harry decided he couldn’t stand to see me again and now only Gemma is here? But I can’t let my discomfort get the best of me. I swallow down the nausea and continue on my trek to the dining room.

To my utter relief, Harry is sat at the table drinking from a mug, his sister at his side. She looks up first, her expression going flat, and I barely get the chance to step aside before she’s pushing roughly past me. Harry watches me closely as I chew on my lower lip then cross the room to sit on the other side of the table. His green eyes are filled with something I have no hope of interpreting.

“I’m… I’m sorry for just showing up in the middle of the night like that. And for basically word-vomiting all over you.”

He sighs, takes another sip from his mug then slides it over to me. My brows furrow, but I don’t question it, merely lifting it to my mouth. The coffee is hot, rich, slightly sweet, and I savour the taste on my tongue for a moment. He shakes his head when I go to pass it back, and I stare at the tabletop while he stands and busies himself with pouring another cup.

“It’s fine,” he says quietly, voice rough and accent thick. “I, well, I appreciated the honesty. I really did.” Harry sits again with a heavy exhale, and his long fingers curl around his mug. “But what do you expect of me? Really, Joey? Am I supposed to be okay with you saying all of that only a handful of hours after you broke up with me? Am I supposed to pretend that you didn’t end our relationship, act like we’re still happy and deliriously in love?”

I don’t have an answer for him. He stares unblinkingly at me, and I duck my head so he can’t see the tears that fill my eyes. It isn’t his fault that I’ve made such a mess of things. He doesn’t need to be made to feel guilty because of my issues. When the silence stretches on, I sniffle, draw in an unsteady breath, then rise to my feet. His gaze is a tangible weight on my back as I make my way to the bathroom.

I’ve just splashed cold water on my face when I hear Gemma’s disgruntled voice saying that Harry is lucky she loves him and that he owes her. She barges in through the door, a small canvas bag in hand. She doesn’t meet my eye while she gestures for me to sit on the closed toilet lid, while she pulls out a tube of concealer.

“This isn’t going to match your complexion, but it’s the best we’ve got.”

“Why are you being so nice?” I whisper as she dabs the makeup under my eyes.

“Because as frustrating as he can be, I love my brother. And for some inexplicable reason, he cares about you even though you broke his heart.”

“I didn’t…”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t do it, does it, no matter your intentions.”

Gemma nods succinctly once she has blended the concealer as much as she can with her fingertips then exits just as suddenly as she arrived. Harry stands just outside the bathroom. I know that this is goodbye. He walks with me to the door, and if I take slower steps than usual, he doesn’t call me on it. At the door, I turn to face him, force myself to meet his gaze.

“Harry, I’m… I’m really sorry. I -”

He cuts me off, words snipped and tone emotionless, “Let me know when you make it home.”

My breath hitches in my throat, and I brush away a tear that slips free. I take it as the dismissal it is. Though I want to kiss him just once more, I don’t let myself be that selfish; I slip out of the house and walk to my car without a backward glance. He stands in the doorway until I start up the vehicle, and I watch him walk back inside and close the door. Something inside of me breaks a little further.

The drive home is a blur. I don’t remember a second of it by the time I pull up in front of my house. Henry waits on the front porch for me, holds his arms open the instant I’m close enough. I collapse onto the step next to him and let him hold me as I shatter apart. This is all my fault, I know it is, but I can’t stop myself from hating how it’s turned out. My uncle doesn’t ask questions or force me to speak, just keeps me wrapped in the security of his hold until I’m ready.

“What happened, starlight?”

I pull away shakily at the sound of my dad’s voice, and his face falls with sympathy. He reaches for my hand and tugs me to my feet, yanks me in against his chest. The words spill from me, awkward and stilted; the relationship I’ve had with these two men have never been the kind with constant contact or lack of boundaries. They don’t say anything as I explain what happened, but when I finish, Henry wraps his hand around mine, smiling up at me sadly.

“Jo Beth… I know you’re hurting, honey, and I’m sorry, but I think you need to take the time to figure yourself out. Then, if you still have feelings for Harry, you can reach out to him.”

“And if he never forgives me?”

“Then you can’t take it personally that he’s decided he can’t handle being hurt again.”

“I didn’t want to lose him,” I admit on a broken whisper, and my dad holds me tighter, as if he can push the pieces of my heart back together by sheer force of will. How I wish he could…


	15. [f i f t e e n]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's this - another update? is this a dream? nope, it's real life. enjoy.  
xx

The next two weeks of my life after losing Harry drag by in a blur of routine: I go to class, pick up as many shifts as possible at work, and spend my nights sprawled across my bed staring at the ceiling. The fact that I have a cat to care for is the only reason I don’t let myself slip too far into my self-pity; I’m grateful for Tubs’s existence in my life - he got me through one loss, and he will get me through another. He stays by my side, a constant presence, except for a few times that I evicted him from my bedroom to get high when the pain was too much to confront.

I avoid any and all social media - I don’t even take pictures of Tubs so that I’m not tempted to post it to Instagram then spend an hour scrolling through reading comments that Harry’s fans have left. Since that girl Tweeted about us on the beach, there had been a steady increase in my followers as one by one, they figured out who I am and decided to pick apart my life via my social media presence. I’m just grateful that I only ever use Instagram for pictures of my cat, the ocean, and, occasionally, whatever meal I’m eating that I feel deserves more than just me to admire its delicious-looking self. It’s hard to leave horrid comments on photos of a super-adorable fat cat and waves that look particularly pretty in the right light.

Even with my self-imposed ban on Instagram and the like, I still find myself googling Harry in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean I feel literally nothing for him, and I want - _need_ \- to know he’s okay. He seems to have settled in quite nicely in London, spotted out on the streets smiling as if we meant nothing, that he wasn’t affected like I was by the ending of our relationship. I know him, I _know_ him, though. He has to feel something, his heart won’t let him not. The articles and photographs don’t show that: They show a happy, newly-single young man living his life, talk about his style and what he buys at the grocery, imply that the fling he had with that American girl was little more than a way to pass the time.

_ **Harry Styles: In London and On the Market?** _

_ **Styles Steps Out In London... Alone** _

_ **Home After Heartbreak! Harry Styles is back in the UK and “doing fine”.** _

_ **Harry and His Heart - What Happened and How He’s Coping** _

_ **Did Harry Styles Cheat???: The story of his whirlwind relationship with American university student, Joey, and what brought about their end!** _

The worst part is - I can’t tell them what happened. I can’t tell anyone that I’m the one who fucked everything up by getting so scared, I pushed away the greatest man I have ever known. I can’t lay the blame on him, either. He didn’t do anything wrong. He did everything right, and I still punished him because I was a coward.

The amount of people who come into my work or amble around campus in hopes of running into me has fallen rapidly in the aftermath of my break-up with Harry. No one cares to know me now that there is no chance they can get to him through me. I thought it was difficult before to navigate my own private life while also being polite enough to his fans so that anything I say or do doesn’t reflect poorly on him, but it is honestly harder to have to ignore the pitying looks from fellow students, the whispers that follow me as I go to and from class, the questions that get shouted at me while I push through the crowds to get to my car. Kristalyn has had to kick people out of the store so they would stop asking me for the sordid details of my heartbreak.

My dad and uncle have left me alone for the most part. After the first couple of times that I ignored their questions of how I was holding up, they stopped asking. Now they show their worry and concern in different ways: My dad makes sure the cabinets are stocked up on my favourite snacks, and Henry generously shares his pot whenever I ask. I appreciate the gestures, but I can’t pull myself back onto my feet and be as all right as I was before Harry ever came into my life, turned it all upside down.

Everything comes to a head after the third week of my isolation. My father stands in front of the door, and I sigh but stop. I don’t care if I’m late to class, and at least listening to what he has to say will get him off my back. His brows draw together over his dark eyes as he stares at me. My eyes burn at the expression on his face. The last time I saw him this out of his depths but desperate to help was in the months following Wil’s death. I cough quietly to dislodge the lump that’s suddenly sprouted to life in my throat.

“Jo... I know you’re hurting. If I could, I’d take it all away. But you’re not handling this breakup well at all, and it honestly is scaring me.”

“I’m fine, Dad. Just licking my wounds in peace.”

“No, honey, you’re not. God, I wish your mom was here. She’d know what to say.”

“All she’d say is how disappointed in me she is that I got left, not the other way around,” I snap, fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. Anger eats at my soul, burns a path along my nerves. “Not exactly a good role model, so fuck her. I gotta get to class.”

“Jo-“

I push past him easily and yank the door open. My dad doesn’t say anything as I storm out of the house, and guilt joins its buddy Rage when the silence of our street is rattled by the slamming of the door. Blowing out my breath sharply, I force myself to continue to my car. My bag hits the floorboards with a thump, but I don’t move from where I stand, staring at the black fabric under the canvas. My hands tremble when I duck down to grab Harry’s T-shirt, bring it to my nose.

It still smells like the salty air of the ocean and Harry. Sand clings to the fabric, cascades down whenever the cotton shifts, and I bite back a sob. I know - god, do I know - that my loneliness and this hurt are my fault. I could have been more understanding, could have tried harder even with the distance that would be between us. Exhaling a shuddering breath, I shove the shirt under the passenger seat and close the door, rounding the car to the driver’s side.

Rebecca smiles at me when I enter the room. I take a seat on the small couch, scrubbing a hand over my face as I do. We don’t speak for a long while; she waits for me to speak, and I struggle to get my thoughts together. This is my first session with her, with therapy in general, and while it will be nice to have a better grip on my thoughts and emotions, I really am not that hopeful. I’m certainly not holding my breath for things to change.

It takes almost three months of weekly sessions and countless tears, but eventually, I feel less conflicted about Wil, Harry, and even Dianne. Rebecca has been so wonderfully patient while I fought against confronting the things I was avoiding, and I still don’t necessarily agree with the implications that I have abandonment issues, but I can definitely see why she says I do. She doesn’t tell me what to think or feel or do, which is probably for the best: even I can admit that I tend to rebel when ordered to do something. The tenth session goes much the same as before - she asks how the last week has been, I give her the same answer as usual that it was filled with work and class.

“So over the last few weeks, we’ve talked about the fact that you felt like it was wrong to love Harry as much as you did, considering you’d promised to love Wil like that for the rest of your life. Do you still feel like that?”

I shrug uncomfortably and stare at my feet. “Yeah, kinda?”

“Joey, can you look at me?” Rebecca’s smile is encouraging when I meet her gaze. “I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. And I need you to hear me, to _really_ listen. How you feel about Harry is not wrong, no matter the vows you took with Wil. That marriage came to an unfortunate end, and I completely understand why it’s affected you the way it has for so long. And your fears toward loving and loss are normal. They’re _human_. With Wil’s death and your mother abandoning you at the precipice of the biggest change in your life, I’d be shocked if you _didn’t_ have those fears. You’ve been letting them control you, though, instead of the other way around.”

“So what can I do to fix that?” I ask softly; the way she shrugs is disheartening, and my stomach clenches tightly in fear that she’s going to tell me that helping me is impossible.

“I can’t tell you how to change the coping mechanisms you’ve relied on for so long. What works for one person doesn’t work for another. All I can do is support you and be here for you as we figure it out together.”

_Together_. It sounds nice. Rebecca’s words echo in my brain all evening, and my distraction is obvious at dinner. I catch the worried looks my dad exchanges with Henry, but neither of them ask, so I don’t tell. I just push the food around my plate, occasionally taking a bite that tastes and feels like sawdust in my mouth, until I can no longer hold up the charade. Carrying my dishes holds the weight I believe those walking to the gallows experience. At least I know this doesn’t bring with it the risk of my execution.

Tubs curls up in my lap the second I sit on my bed, crossing my legs. I stroke his fur absentmindedly as I stare down at the message thread. Words fail me completely - anything I say at this point is likely to be unwelcome.

  
**Joey says:** Hey... I’m so sorry for everything. I wish I could take it all back, or at least been able to have an actual conversation with you instead of shoving you away like I did. I really hope you can forgive me.  
  
**Unknown says:** ERROR 2132:The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected.  


It shouldn’t hurt to see the automated text, but it does. I stare down at the grey bubble, forcing myself to breathe as evenly as possible through the pain. Of course, I had known it was a possibility - after all, it’s been four months since Harry and I broke up. My chest grows tight, lungs shrinking beneath my ribs. I toss the phone aside then immediately reach for it again. Looking at the texts and pictures we’ve sent each other and the selfies that we filled my gallery with brings tears to my eyes. I can’t stop myself from wondering if I would have ever accepted his invitation to our first date if I had known how this would turn out in the end.

_Harry -  
I don’t even know why I’m writing this letter. It’s not like you’ll ever actually get it... I just have some things to say, things that have weighed heavily on my mind and heart since we said goodbye, and I need to get them out somehow. Even if you’ll never read these words..._

_I tried texting you yesterday. Your number has been disconnected, which obviously you already know considering you did it. God, I feel like a fucking idiot right now. I’m the one who ended us, I’m the one who never gave us a fighting chance. So it isn’t really right of me to be writing a letter putting into words what I’ve been feeling, is it?_

_I told you I was scared of what I felt for you. And that was true. It still is a little, but I can’t deny any more how important you were - are - to me. Even though I broke your heart, you really are so damn important. You gave me hope for a future, an opportunity for closure on my past. You gave me love, and all I did was throw that right back in your face because I was a goddam coward. I’ve been going to therapy, and it’s helped me. A lot. She’s helped me learn that loving you? Never took away from the love I will always have for Wil. And that I was allowing my fear of abandonment, saying goodbye, dictate how my life went instead of facing those fears head-on. Fuck, I let you go because I was terrified of you stopping loving me, and it’s the dumbest thing I ever could have done._

_You are the reason that I was able to talk about Wil again. You are the reason I was able to be happy again, even though I was so scared. I tried so fucking hard to pretend I wasn’t, and I failed. I know I did. Obviously because I let go of the best relationship I could ever dream of being in. Can I be honest? As much as I love Wil, as much as I will always have love for him in my heart, I think I remembered the relationship I had with him too fondly. Because memories are all I will ever have. My mind twisted everything into him being this amazing, perfect, infallible guy. I’ve been working with my therapist on taking those rose-tinted glasses off and seeing the past for what it was: Two humans who loved each other deeply but weren’t perfect by any means. And it’s helped a lot to sort out what I really felt for him - and, in turn, what I feel for you. And there is just so much that I feel for you._

_Love, anger, want... need... Because Harry? I needed you. I need you. And it isn’t fair, I know, I have no right to tell you any of this. I have no right to finally open up like this after I hurt you so cruelly. It changes nothing of what I did to you, no matter how much I wish it would. But I am so done with the avoidance bullshit that I’ve relied on since I was 13 because all it’s done is hurt me in the long run. I’m so tired of not being happy._

_I have no idea what the fuck this even is. All I know is I meant what I said that night I showed up at your house. I love you, and God knows I always will. You’ll be another memory I keep buried in my heart, and I won’t ever let go of that. I will do my best to make sure I look back at our relationship with honesty and not some misguided attempt at making you larger than life no matter how accurate it is - you really are larger than life, but in the best of ways. You’re the closest thing to heaven that I’ve had in my life for so long, and I regret letting my doubts and insecurities get in the way. I regret hurting you. But I will never in my life regret meeting you and falling in love with you._

_Love you. For the rest of my life.  
\- Jo_

“And where are you going?” Henry asks from the doorway, but I don’t pause in what I’m doing. This last-minute decision terrifies me - what if it turns around to bite me in the ass? - but I can’t just let it go. I have to do something. I have to do this. “Josephine!”

“I, uh... I have something to do. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but can you watch Tubs for me?”

“Dennis! Come talk to your daughter.”

I sigh, tugging the zip to my duffel bag closed, and turn to face my uncle - and my father, once he joins. Neither of them look thrilled at my plans, but I can see the hope that shines warmly from Henry’s eyes. My dad scrutinises me closely, the doubts more than evident on his face, but eventually, he gives me a succinct nod and makes me promise to check in regularly.

“Every hour, on the hour,” I swear. Ducking down, I scritch behind Tubs’s ears and press a kiss to the top of his head. “You be a good boy, fat boy. No running away.”

I have less than thirty hours to reach the destination, and the longer I drive, the more I fear I’ll be too late. Traffic finally eases up once the clock slips past nine-thirty; I settle back in the seat, turn up the music, and hope that this isn’t going to turn out horribly.


	16. [s i x t e e n]

The cold breeze whips around me, slipping icy tendrils down the collar of my jacket, and I shiver when the light misting turns abruptly to a steady drizzle. My cheeks have long gone numb, though it really isn’t surprising considering I have been stood outside in the dreary mid-February weather for the last hour and a half. The fence rattles with a particularly strong gust of wind; I tug my jacket more securely around me and hunch into myself. The girl next to me gives me a dirty look and steps away, as if the fact that I’m not smiling and laughing like she and her friends is a sign that I’m a horrible person. Little does she know...

Eventually, after my toes have lost all feeling and I have begun to wonder if my blood has actually frozen in my veins, the door opens with a resounding clank, and my spine straightens instinctively. Rain splatters against my cheeks, drips from my hair into my eyes, but I ignore it. My attention is solely on the man walking out of the building, laughing and talking with his friends and crew. The sight of his dimpled smile, so achingly familiar, nearly breaks my heart in two. _That could’ve still been mine_, the vicious part of my brain reminds me to drive that stab of pain further into my being. The clusters of fans around me scream, though the roar of my pulse is deafening in my ears, blocking out the sound. I link my fingers in the fence, calling his name.

Harry’s face lights up once he sees me, and I stupidly hope this can only mean good things. Within a second, that hope is dashed, shattered into a million pieces, when I see that happiness disappear suddenly as if shutters came down to cover his expression. I know he is thinking about how we left it, the way I ended us so absolutely. I force a small smile in an attempt to convey how remorseful I am. I nearly vomit on my shoes when he pointedly yanks his gaze away, as he climbs onto his tour bus, as the doors shut behind him. Finding out that I’ve lost my chance isn’t that shocking, if I’m being honest - it would be more surprising if there had been any other outcome to this.

The girl stares at me with wide eyes, no longer acting as if I am a blight on the earth but maybe someone she wants to know - simply because of who I am. The light of recognition fills her eyes, and her mouth opens as if to say something. Her friend stops her with a shake of his head; anyone who knows of me, who knows who I am in relation to Harry, knows that we broke up. Why should they give me the time of day now that I’m nothing to him?

I let go of the fence, turning away from the bus and the chance at happiness that I gave up. Sniffling, I wipe the rain and tears from my cheeks and slowly head toward my car. I’m stopped by the sound of my name coming from behind me. The man who stands there isn’t one I recognise, but anyone can look at his dark shirt and jeans and know he’s part of the security team. My knees tremble under me, my whole body alternating between freezing cold numbness and the heat of a fragile hope, and my stomach heaves as I follow the man to the door of the bus. He disappears once we’ve boarded.

Harry stares at his hands, knuckles white as his fingers clench tightly around each other. There is no other sign that he notices my presence beyond the tension in his hands and shoulders; he steadfastly avoids eye contact with me. I shift my weight awkwardly but don’t speak. Now that I’m here, I have no idea what to say. He takes that decision away from me by sighing heavily. A dim, desperate wish flutters weakly; maybe this can be fixed.

“Why are you here?”

Time freezes at the hoarse voice, the abrupt question that doesn’t invite easy conversation. My mouth moves, but no words come. Finally, I manage to swallow the lump in my throat. “I... this looks weird, doesn’t it?”

“A bit like you’re a stalker, yeah.” His jaw tics, and I know he’s not amused. It wasn’t meant as a joke.

“I’m so sorry.” The dam breaks, words flowing from me without conscious thought or permission. My hands ache to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin on mine. My heart beats painfully beneath my ribs, and I choke on my voice. “I just, god, Harry, I-I can’t even put into words how sorry I am. It wasn’t fair to you for me to do that. You were so amazing and wonderful, and I threw that all out the window for such dumb fucking reasons. And it isn’t... it’s not a good enough explanation, I know it isn’t, and I certainly don’t expect you to just forgive me like it never happened.

“I was just so terrified of losing you that I pushed you away before you could leave me, all in a foolish attempt to spare myself that pain.” I scoff and swipe the sleeve of my jacket over my face, scuffing my toe on the floor. “Surprise, surprise, it didn’t help. It still hurt like fucking Hell. And, and I regret it. So much.”

He doesn’t say anything after I fall silent; the only sounds in the area come from our breathing and raindrops lashing at the windows. The nausea I’ve been fighting against increases, and I wonder if I can make it off the bus before I puke. He might as well be a statue with how still he sits, only the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes giving evidence to the fact that he’s very much human. My eyes burn with even more tears, and my breath rattles when I inhale unsteadily.

“I, uh, I’ll go now. I just wanted to give you this.”

Harry still hasn’t looked at me once, and he doesn’t reach for the letter I pull from my bag. The paper crinkles in my grip, my fingers spasming around the edges of the letter. With a sharp exhale, I set it on the couch next to him and turn toward the door. His shoulders are slumped forward, something reminiscent of defeat in his posture, when I look back at him. My heart screams for me to stay, to fight, to make everything I’ve done wrong right, but I don’t want to make this harder on him. I lost the right to be selfish like that, so I step off the bus and ignore the sound of my world crumbling further with each step I take.


	17. [s e v e n t e e n]

I roll over in bed for the seventh time in less than an hour, unable to sleep. It’s been four days since I saw Harry last, and the memory of his face is a painful reminder of how I got to where I am - achingly lonely and still so heartbroken and filled with so much anger at myself. I understand why I ended our relationship, but the loudest voice in my head chastises me constantly for that decision. It tells me I was a fool and a coward and completely undeserving of any ounce of love he gave me. I can’t honestly say that the voice is wrong.

The ghost of him lying next to me appears, and I close my eyes against the tears. I miss the warmth and comfort and solidity of him at my side, so much so I can scarcely breathe. It was for the best, Rebecca has helped me to see that. If I’d never told him goodbye, I would never have gotten into therapy to confront my issues and start healing. But it does little to make me feel better about the situation. It doesn’t take away what I did. It doesn’t take away the pain for either Harry or me.

The morning comes slowly; the sunshine inches across the floor, dispels the shadows of the night, but I don’t move. I don’t even know what day it is, though I can’t imagine how that is important. Not right now. I thought I’d been getting over my broken heart, the loss of another amazing man in my life. Seeing Harry, hearing his voice and being close enough to touch, has reopened the wound, and nothing holds the light from before everything crumbled down like a house of cards.

“Hey, hun, your dad went to work, but I’ve got today off. I’ll be in the living room if you wanna talk.”

“Henry?” I call out brokenly after a moment, and my uncle immediately pushes the door open, poking his head into my bedroom. “I fucked up.”

“I know, sweetie. And I know it hurts.”

“Can... can you...?”

Henry knows what I can’t ask. He crosses the room to sit beside me, pulls me into his side, and the storm crashes over me. His hand is gentle as it cards through my hair; I cling to my uncle and let myself fall further beneath the waves that consume me, draw me into their depths, and drown me with their weight. My body doesn’t feel like my own - everything is disconnected, as if I’m merely inhabiting someone else’s form and experiencing what it feels to have arms and legs and lungs and a heart through a distance. The scents of laundry detergent and Henry’s cologne are comforting, something solid to cling to in the upheaval of my emotions. A heavy weight clambers across my legs, and Henry shifts so that Tubs can push himself between us.

“What happened?” Henry murmurs, his arms tightening around me as I hiccup.

“I should never have gone to see him. It was a dumb idea.” I wipe the hem of my comforter along my cheeks then settle back into my uncle’s side. “It made me realise just how much I miss him. How much I need him but don’t have him because I was so fucking stupid.”

“You weren’t stupid, Jo Beth.”

“I broke up with him. I love him, and I still broke up with him.”

“So? Doesn’t mean you were stupid.”

“Whatever.”

“No, listen to me, please. You made what you felt was the right choice. Just because you regret that decision doesn’t mean you were dumb for making it. Okay?”

“Does it ever get easier?” I whisper in lieu of accepting what he’s saying, and I hope desperately that he understands.

“After… after Dianne, your dad was messed up. He tried his best to keep it from you, because you were hurting so much at your mom walking out of your life like that, but I saw the way he’d hide his pain in alcohol and overworking himself. Remember how he was always at work, from before you woke up in the morning until long after you went to bed? He’d go straight from work to the bar, come home to pass out in his bed, and leave before the sunlight. Eventually, though, he accepted that Dianne wasn’t coming back, he let himself feel the pain he avoided for so long, and he got through. And you will, too, sweetheart.”

“I don’t wanna hurt any more.”

Henry sighs, presses a soft kiss to my hair. “I know, and trust me, I’d take this away if I could.”

After another ten minutes, my uncle squeezes me tightly and clambers off the bed. I roll over to face the wall as he makes his way to the door, but I hear him stop in the doorway. The door closes with a _snick_ behind him. My phone vibrates on the nightstand; reluctantly, I reach for the device, stare at the reminder of therapy in two hours. I hadn’t told Rebecca about my plans to drive two states away to see Harry for the first time since our break-up, and I can’t imagine that she’ll be happy that I did so. Hopefully, she keeps the scolding to a minimum. I’m too exhausted on multiple levels to be able to handle that.

Tubs meows plaintively from the counter when I step out of the shower, and I stare blankly at his yellow-green eyes. I know I made sure the door was shut when I came into the bathroom - sometimes, the latch doesn’t catch, so he manages to sneak in. But I’d heard the click this time. Shaking my head and deciding that Henry probably let him in, I reach for my towel, scrubbing my skin dry, then wrap the fabric around my hair. Loud purring echoes in the space, and I press my fingertip to Tubs’s nose and smile despite myself at how he _mrewr_s and immediately licks at my skin. I dress quickly in a pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie.

As expected, Rebecca frowns when I tell her about my last-minute decision to see Harry. I fidget under her scrutiny, hope that I’m not about to get yelled at. She lets out a measured breath after a moment.

“Okay. So that was something you did. We probably should have discussed it _before_ you did it, but can’t change that now.” She sets her pen down and leans forward a bit. “How do you feel now?”

I shrug awkwardly. “Honestly? I feel like I hurt worse now than I did when we first broke up. Like seeing him ripped open the half-healed scar.”

“That makes sense. Can you tell me what happened?”

“He… he didn’t say more than, like, three words to me, so I basically word-vomited everywhere. Then I left him with the letter I wrote.”

“Tell me about the letter.”

“It basically just apologised for what I did, explained my reasons, told him that I regretted ending us. I told him I was in therapy now. I made it clear that I didn’t expect any response and that I was writing it for myself pretty much.”

“And has there been any response?”

“Not even a ‘fuck you, stay away from me’. And before you ask, it hurts. A lot. But I can’t say that I don’t understand.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it, though.”

“Oh, believe me. I’m not.”

She changes the topic then, asks about how I’m feeling juggling a job and classes, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I know I pay her to listen to my bullshit, but talking about Harry still isn’t any easier. He’s always on my mind, and I’m always going to love him. I’d just prefer to keep the memories of that relationship close to my chest instead of on the table for the world to see.

I ignore the chiming noise that comes from my phone, instead focusing on the assignment I’ve been trying to complete for almost six hours. It isn’t even really difficult - I just can’t concentrate. Tom Petty’s voice is interrupted by the chime again. I roll my eyes when I realise that I have read the same question three times and still have no idea what it said, reaching for the device. My brows furrow at the number that pops up at the top of the screen; I don’t recognise it, and it certainly isn’t one saved in my phone.

  
**Unknown Number says:** I read your letter. You’re right. It doesn’t make up for what you did.  
**Unknown Number says:** I’m glad to know you’re getting help, though. You’re not a bad person, Jo.  


My breath hitches in my throat. I can’t believe that Harry’s reached out. In my haste to respond, not even autocorrect can help make the mass of letters make sense. I have to retype my response three times before the words I want form on the screen.

  
**Joey says:** Hi I didn’t expect you to contact me I figured you’d never want to talk to me again... I hate that I hurt you.  
  
**Unknown Number says:** I hate that you did, too. But we can’t change it now.  
**Unknown Number says:** I forgive you.  
  
**Joey says:** Thank you. Would you want to get coffee whenever you’re in LA again? So we can talk face-to-face?  


The delivered notice switches to Read almost immediately, but even after half an hour, he doesn’t reply. Disappointment blooms in my chest, though I can’t blame him. I expected a flat-out _No_, so to get nothing… it’s somehow better. I don’t bother saving the phone number - I have very little hopes of him contacting me again.


	18. [e i g h t e e n]

The next few days are rough, full of unanswered questions and doubts. I force myself not to dwell on the pain of not knowing anything, go to class and work as usual; Kristalyn and Aaron are worried - I can see it in their eyes whenever they look at me - so I do my best to pretend that I’m fine, that nothing has gone wrong in the last five months. It isn’t a hundred percent successful, but it works well enough to keep them from asking questions.

After the first week since the text asking him for coffee, things become easier. I’m not sure if it is because I start to buy into the lies I’m telling everyone or if the pain really is going away, but I can make it through my days without risk of collapsing backwards into that abyss again. The tightness in my chest eases enough that I can breathe once more, that heaviness fades slowly from my soul. And I find myself not caring if it’s real or not - it is all I have, and I have to cling to that truth. I’m terrified of what may happen if I don’t.

I toss my bag onto the passenger seat, closing the door and turning. A startled squeak escapes when my route around the car is blocked by a random teenager. She gives me a frightened smile, her gaze darting around our surroundings before finally meeting mine.

“Sorry, but, uh, is it true that you dated Harry Styles?”

“I’m… not sure why my romantic life is any of your business.” My tone is sharper than I intended, and her brown eyes widen in surprise. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. Look, I really don’t know why you’ve decided to come up to me and ask that, but it’s not something I talk about with anyone, especially not strangers.”

“Sorry! I, um, I just wanted to know if you could tell him how much he means to me? That his music has saved my life?”

_Even if he and I were still on speaking terms, why the fuck do you think I’d do that?_ I bite back the words, shoving a hand through my hair. “Sure. I’ll tell him, I guess. Now if you could move so I can go home…?”

She darts out of my way, voice shaky as she apologises; I round the front of the car at a near-run, sliding into the driver’s seat. It takes a couple of tries to get the key into the ignition, but finally, it slides into place. As I drive away, my mind begins racing, taking stock of my emotions.

Having someone come up to me and so easily bring up Harry was an uncomfortable situation, and it hurts far more than I expected to hear her say his name as if it didn’t burn on her tongue like acid, as if the world wasn’t crashing down around her at the mere mention of a five-letter word. As if uttering those two syllables wasn’t enough to turn her world upside down. My breath hitches, my heart shattering apart; this is all my fault, so why the Hell am I the one hurting so badly? I swallow down the bile and focus on driving. It’s just my luck that I would die because of driving while distracted by the hurt I inflicted on myself.

Henry isn’t home when I pull up out front of the house, but my dad’s truck is in its usual spot. I scrub a hand over my face then check my reflection in the rear-view. The last thing I want to do is make him worry more about me by showing up with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. I’ve only just gotten the men to not question whether I will survive in one piece, and I don’t think I can handle that again.

Once I’m sure my face isn’t screaming out everything I feel and think, I make my way toward the front door. Dennis looks up from the pan on the stove as I come into view. He grins widely, stirring whatever he’s cooking, then rounds the counter to hug me tightly. I sink into his hold, stealing comfort as a bandage for the wound that still has yet to heal.

“How was your day?” he asks after a long minute, and like that, the momentarily relief from what I feel disappears with an unrelenting swiftness.

“It was, it was fine. Class was boring as usual, but work went really well. Aaron says I might be manager material, never mind the fact that Kristalyn was there first, but she doesn’t seem to care. So... ya girl might be promoted soon.”

“That’s fantastic, starlight.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty proud of it. I mean, it’s just manager of a bookstore, but it’s something, right?” I pause, sniffing at the air. “What are you making?”

“Lemon-garlic chicken and asparagus.”

“Smells delicious. I’m gonna go change, then I’ll make some potatoes.”

I stand on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek then head toward my bedroom. Tubs doesn’t lift his head as I flop onto the mattress, but he starts purring so I’m not too worried. He’s always been a lazy-bones; I don’t think I’ve ever seen him play for more than thirty seconds, and that’s only after he’s had catnip. I stroke a finger through the soft fur on the top of his skull, sigh heavily.

“It still hurts,” I whisper, a secret that shouldn’t be confessed, an admission that has the potential to break me beyond repair. “It’s been over two weeks, and he still hasn’t even told me to jump off the nearest bridge. I could handle that, I think, but this whole thing of not knowing what he’s thinking… Tubs, what am I gonna do?”

Of course the cat doesn’t respond. I groan low in my throat and shove to my feet. As much as I know the breakup and subsequent aftermath is because of my own choices, it isn’t fair that Harry is leaving me hanging on, confused and lost. He needs to be forthright and just tell me what his thoughts are. What he wants and needs from me, even if it’s just to tell me that he needs me to pretend I was never in his life. If that’s what he wants, I can do it. I just have to _know_.

Changing quickly into a pair of plaid sleep-pants and T-shirt, I pull my hair into a low ponytail and make my way back out to the kitchen. My father and I work in silence as we get dinner finished, and he waits until I’ve set the table to dish out the food. My brows furrow when I realise Henry still hasn’t come home.

“Wait, where’s Unc?”

“Uh, your uncle had a date.”

“Huh… I didn’t see that coming.”

“You didn’t expect him to be a bachelor forever, did you?”

I shrug - honestly, I really had. Henry has never given any indication that he wanted a relationship with anyone. So it was only logical that I’d come to that conclusion, right? Instead of replying, I shove a bite of chicken into my mouth and let out an unintelligible noise. My dad shakes his head with a smile.

“Hey, Dad?” At his expectant look, I set my fork down and draw in a steadying breath. “Thank you. For, you know, being there for me as well as you could after the whole breakup and…everything. I know it was uncomfortable for you, but you did it. And I appreciate it.”

“I’m just glad you seem to have gotten through it,” he admits after a moment, and my gaze drops to my plate. I don’t want him to know that I’m still struggling; besides, I’ve moved on. Mostly. “If I ever see him, though -”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. It wasn’t his fault, Dad. It was me.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t he the one who was moving and didn’t tell you?”

“Well, yeah, but… I’m the one who broke up with him instead of giving the relationship a shot. I, I was scared of how important he was to me, and I ran. I think I inherited that from Dianne.”

The joke falls flat, as I had known it would, but my dad doesn’t comment on that. He swallows the mouthful of food and pins me with a level stare, scrutinising me. I sigh, wait for whatever he has to say.

“You’re not your mother, Jo. That has never been a question or doubt in my mind - what if this beautiful child grows up to be exactly like the woman who abandoned her? I never once thought that. I knew you would turn out exactly as you’re meant to be. And if you’re a human being who makes mistakes when it comes to the people she loves, well… who among us hasn’t? I was never the perfect husband, and I will not claim I was. I made the wrong decisions.

“But the thing is, when you love someone, you do your damnedest to fix those mistakes. And you tried, right?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, continuing, “You started therapy, you tried reaching out to him. Hell, you drove two states away just to see him face-to-face to make amends. You did what you could. It’s up to him now.”

“I don’t think he’ll ever want to see me again. I royally fucked up, and no amount of saying sorry will change that.”

“You never know, but if that’s the case, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you to learn how to be happy. And you have me and your uncle by your side every step of the way.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He magnanimously keeps his comments to himself when I wipe the tears from my eyes. We finish eating without speaking, and he wanders off while I clean up and put away the leftovers. As soon as that task is done, I turn off the lights, amble to the couch, and plop down next to him. His arm immediately comes up to wrap around my shoulders and tug me into his side.

I have to admit, I never thought there would be an upside to the dissolution of my relationship with Harry, but being closer to my dad is definitely a silver lining. We have only ever had each other to rely on, minus Henry, but we rarely discussed emotions - or Dianne - before this. He had his own baggage to deal with, and there was never this level of comfort when bringing up sensitive topics such as our failed relationships. I have always viewed him as the strong and silent type, there to offer security and stability but never the one who would help me work through my feelings. All evidence prior to now has only served to drive that point home. But now here we are, able to talk freely no matter how uncomfortable we feel doing so.

My dad is gone by the time I get out of bed in the morning. Henry still hasn’t come home, judging by the fact his car isn’t out front. I feed Tubs and clean his litter box then rush through a shower. I woke before my alarm, which means if I hurry, I can stop for coffee before class. I make sure my uncle and dad’s doors are closed, kiss my cat’s head, and head for the door.

  
**Unknown Number says:** Where we had our first cup together.  


I stare down at the text, blinking rapidly in hopes that I’m not misreading it, but then I’m moving. The professor falls silent, and I ignore it, continuing to pack up my stuff. She calls after me as I make my way out of the room, texting my father as I go. I know it will count against my grade - Aslin made it clear in the beginning of term that participation and presence are a percentage of our grades. I just don’t care. This is much more important.

My heart pounds in my chest, and my palms are clammy. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and inhale as slowly and steadily as possible. Fear and nerves and hope war for dominance, though all they manage to do is make me even more confused. I don’t know what this meet-up is going to accomplish. Am I going to end up more hurt? Is this going to destroy all the progress I’ve made in therapy? I exhale sharply; there isn’t a point to letting my thoughts get away from me.

I follow the whispers through the small crowd standing outside of the Starbucks until I can see him sitting at the table at the end of the walk. Two cups sit in front of him on the table. His is already half-gone. I murmur an “Excuse me” to the middle-aged woman chattering excitedly to her friend and approach the table. The people gathered start whispering even more, and camera shutters click as they begin taking pictures as I sit across from Harry.

He hands me the untouched cup, and I flash him an awkward smile, uncomfortable now that we’re so close. “Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

It’s a mimicry of the first time we sat like this. He seems to remember that day as clearly as I can, if the way his lips twitch is any indication. His gaze moves down to the rings on his fingers, and I watch his face. There’s a tenseness in his cheek that wasn’t there so long ago, brows pulled together over green eyes dark with whatever he’s feeling. His fingers twist around themselves for a moment, then his eyes dart to mine.

“For what?”

“The coffee, duh.”

“Nothin’ doing. It’s on me.”

My chest grows tight with the words, and I let his rough voice wash over me. If I let myself, I can almost pretend that I didn’t ruin what we had, that this is just a normal day between two lovers. Taking a sip of my coffee, something warm blossoms in my soul at the realisation that he still remembers what to order for me. He has had five months to forget everything about me, but he hadn’t. Uncertainty bleeds through the pleasant headiness - what does this mean?

“I -”

“You -”

“Sorry,” I murmur with a vague wave and a nervous giggle. I shove a hand through my hair and ignore the bystanders straining to listen in on our conversation. “You go first.”

His voice is soft when he speaks, as if to keep the others from overhearing, and isn’t that just like him - to make sure I’m not disrespected… “Jo, you - you broke up with me then showed up at my house hours later and expected me to, what, comfort you? Make you feel better about your decision? It was… it was fucked up, is what it was.” He sighs, and I ache with the need for him to look me in the eyes as he rips my heart out. He owes me that courtesy. “I couldn’t even be angry! Or turn you away. I should have, but I just, I couldn’t. That’s how much I loved you. You needed me even though you’re why we ended, and I was there for you because I loved you. No matter how badly you hurt me, I wasn’t able to not be there.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“You’ve already apologised dozens of times, so stop already.”

The words are harsh, but his tone is the complete opposite. It’s almost sweet, light, and I want to dive headfirst into the fluttering of hope that wells up. Biting my lower lip, I turn my head when a chair screeches against the concrete; the teenager’s eyes grow wide, and she lets out a squeak before hurriedly moving away. I blow out a breath and face Harry again. He still won’t meet my eye again, but that’s fine.

“So, uh, where do we go from here?”

“I honestly have no clue. You have to understand, Jo, I _loved_ you.” I nearly jump in my seat when his eyes finally rise to catch mine. The sunshine makes them clearer, more golden, but the pain in them tears at my soul with the force of a blazing inferno. “I love you a lot more than I ever anticipated when we first started talking. When I promised to help you find Tubs, I, I expected a friendship, maybe a quick fling because I wasn’t looking for a relationship but I won’t refuse myself a good time if we’re both willing.

“But then you… fuck, Joey, you burrowed yourself under my skin, and I couldn’t stand the thought of giving you up at the end of it. That’s why it took me so long to tell you I was moving. I wanted to have a solution that would work for us before I brought it up. But then you ended us, and it hurt. I loved you, and I lost you. I can’t - I can’t do that again.”

“So… this is it, then?”

My blood freezes in my veins as I wait for him to answer. Thunder crashes in my ears - or is that my heartbeat? The fire eats more of my being away the longer it takes until he says something, _any_thing. A small voice tells me to prepare for this to have been a waste of time, though getting any answer to all of my unasked questions will never be a waste of time, and an even smaller part of me clings to the hope and desperate wish that this isn’t going to go terribly. A sharp, coppery taste fills my mouth, and I wince as I realise that I’ve bitten the inside of my lip to the point of ripping through the skin.

“I don’t know.”

My lungs stop working at those three words. I can’t breathe as they echo painfully, easily, in my mind. His hand trembles when he lifts his cup to take a drink, and I stare at the bright light reflecting off the ring on his index finger. My eyes water, but I don’t blink. The discomfort is worth it, if it means not blinking and waking up from this dream.

“I - a part of me wants to hurt you like you hurt me,” he admits, the words slow to come. “It’s selfish of me, sure, but you deserve the truth. Then there’s a larger part of me that wants to pretend we never broke up and that we’d be celebrating our one-year anniversary next week. And I couldn’t tell you which part I should listen to.”

I don’t want to say it, but he gave me the truth. I can only repay that honesty by not being selfish. “I don’t know, either.”

“I have to go.”

Harry avoids looking at me as he pushes to his feet; his cup remains on the table long after he has walked away. I duck my head and close my eyes against the burning tears that break loose. I appreciate that he’s told me all of this - I really do - but it hurts that there is no more clarity to the entire situation than I had before. I pull out my phone and type out a text with trembling fingers.

  
Dad  
  
**Joey says:** I don’t think it went awful… but I certainly don’t know more now than I did before.  
  
**Dad says:** I’m sorry starlight  
**Dad says:** I really hoped for a different outcome  
  
**Joey says:** So did I.  


I shake my head and shove my way through the crowds, not bothering to be patient or respectful. If they didn’t want to be jostled, they should have moved the Hell out of my way when they saw me coming. I barely manage to get my seatbelt buckled with the way my hands shake so violently. The onslaught of emotions has shifted, been joined by anger, though I know it’s unwarranted. It isn’t as if Harry is deliberately confusing me; he’s just as confused about everything, and he has every right to be. So I swallow down the bitterness and ignore thinking about how I’m feeling.

The days pass, one after the next, and I wake up on the twenty-second to Tubs nudging me with his nose, chirping when my eyes open. I scratch lightly behind his ear and reach for my phone. It’s only half seven, and I don’t have class until later in the afternoon, so I’m definitely planning on going back to sleep. I’ve just set the device back on the nightstand when it vibrates. My heart skips a beat when I see that it’s from the unsaved number - the one Harry has been messaging me from.

Everything goes fuzzy at the edges as I read the text, and I struggle to breathe. My throat grows tight, tears spill over. Tubs seems to realise my attention is no longer on him, and he swipes at my hand with a paw before darting away. I don’t see where he goes, too distracted with staring down at the words on the screen of my phone.

  
**Unknown Number says:** Happy anniversary, love.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this is it - the final chapter. once i have the bonus chapters written and ready for posting, i'll be making this a series and adding the bonus scenes that didn't make it into the main story (there are a few that i have planned out already). if there's anything in particular you'd like to see, feel free to let me know either in a comment on this chapter or on tumblr (the link is in my profile!)
> 
> just a little tidbit of info: i wasn't planning on having the text in this chapter. i was planning on leaving it as a cliffhanger, just her staring down at her phone but us not knowing what the text read. i couldn't go through with it, though. oops.


End file.
